


Long Road Ahead

by AuthorLoremIpsum



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Gore, Imprisonment, Infection, Minor Character Death, Multi, Strong Language, Zombie AU, believe it or not i'm actually lazy in tagging, fungus, guilt tripping present, it's zombies what do you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorLoremIpsum/pseuds/AuthorLoremIpsum
Summary: (Technically unfinished but it reached AN ending)Aliens are bad, fungus monsters are scary, and zombies are KNOWN for their ability to bring the world to its knees.When a rain of strange, black-bleeding meteors strikes the earth, humanity's time seems to have come to an end as this strange substance begins to infect and consume the world. But not all hope is lost, a signal from Russia calls about a safe stronghold, and few in number are people who don't fall to the infection like everyone else.One of these is Henry Jekyll, and this is the journey of he and his friends.





	1. What Remains of Society

It was incredible how many people you could fit into an RV and package trailer.

Admittedly the latter wasn’t supposed to be carrying people, it wasn’t entirely safe, yet they’d managed to fit at least five people and made makeshift seat belts with ropes and helmets. The RV held the other fifteen people, eight sitting on the floor, three squished on the couches, four on the bed, three in the cab, and that was everyone they needed to worry about. In the trailer was all the food, those watching it had shown their integrity, and occasionally one would hear a stomach growl loudly in the back seat of the RV, followed by a chorus of sad and tired chuckles.

Henry had the wheel. 

He didn’t sleep as much as everyone else because of unfortunate reasons, this made him the best candidate for hours of time behind the wheel, staring at the monotony of the road ahead, turning their plan over in his mind. The radio call kept coming in over the waves that used to carry music, a stronghold, out in Russia, where so much open space compared to the population, where the cold was enough to keep  _ them  _ back.

Fire, head trauma, and ice, that’s what they used to fight these things.

Like zombies but, somehow worse, leaking black goop from every orifice with glowing white eyes that seemed to drill into your very soul. He knew better than the others, that’s exactly what those damn eyes were doing. The trails of black they left could kill as fast as their bites, made food and water untouchable without protection, spread fire like gasoline or oil, and burned with the heat of what surely must’ve been hellfire.

Henry’s hand twitched on the steering wheel, the black-scarred bite mark on his wrist aching as he considered their enemy. The unearthly undead, what else could they be? They were not creatures brought about by a virus, and the meteor storm had been the only precursor to the fall of man, bringing the black goop that seeped from the fallen stones like blood.

His wrist began to ache worse, not a sign of something to come, but the presence brought by the infection reminding him of its existence.

It wasn’t going anywhere. 

When Sinnett had gotten bit, they’d had to cut off his arm with a fire axe. God he’d screamed and cried so hard, but he was alive now, the infection hadn’t gotten to him, hadn’t turned him into one of those things. They’d managed to save him, but just barely, and it’d left stretching black scars on what remained of his left arm. 

He hadn’t been immune.

They’d had to take out Tweedy’s eye for the same reason, thankfully his was only a splash of the stuff, slower infection. The gaping wound left behind was black, but it wasn’t infected, and he wore the bandages with almost pride. Saying, “Hell yeah, I survived.”

As if Henry could boast such pride, bearing the bite like the mark of Cain, a symbol of his damnation.

He didn’t know how long he had, or if it was even safe for the others to be around him.

God, he was lucky to not be dead or damned or, whatever the hell happened after infection, but not knowing what was to become of him was more fearful than death itself. Not to mention,  _ him _ .

That thing, that thing they’d said he become, the thing that laughed and growled and roared, that refused to tell them what his-

“HENRY WATCH IT!” the rider in the passenger seat, Robert, cried, pointing ahead. Henry snapped out of his daze and shouted in surprise, slamming on the brake. He heard the other passengers shout in surprise and pain, the trailer in the back clunked loudly, but they’d forgive him later.

Ahead, standing atop a tipped over semi, dressed in a heavy coat and wielding what looked to be a metal bat, was a young man with a charming hat. Multiple of those  _ things  _ were swarming at the base of the truck, searching for a way to climb up, unable to get their mutilated black limbs flapping and flopping about uselessly, degraded and eaten away by the black goop that covered them.

The other passengers crowded the cabin, looking out front, each talking trying to figure out what happened, babbling and asking like curious parrots. Henry’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as pain shot up his arm, a needle had been shoved through his palm all the way up to his shoulder, aching and throbbing with his heartbeat.

“We gotta help him!” Rachel, the girl who’d sat with them in the cab, cried. The radio that connected them to the trailer crackled, the asked for answers, for a plan. Henry heard Robert answer it, then sucked in a breath through his teeth, he needed to let off some steam.

Rescuing someone else would be a good bonus.

He turned and unlocked the door, turning off the RV, grabbing his crowbar from its place beside the chair, and getting out. Voices cried after him, demanding to know what he was doing, and his answer was to silently show them his bite, how the blackness looked fresh and was beginning to ooze down his hand.

When it got bad, black veins would spread back into his hand and forearm, creating a spiderweb of toxic blackness that they could all see. It was enough to make them stop asking. His heartbeat throbbed beneath the bite, spreading by the second as he fought the growing violent urge in the back of his mind. It whispered to him, to some part deeper than his conscious mind, deeper than his subconscious.

Ito climbed into the front seat and pulled the door closed, Henry heard the lock click and fought down the frightened lump in his throat. He tightened his grip on his weapon, squared his shoulders, and started towards the semi, determined not to be scared, to not let them see him scared. He knew they would watch his back, they always did, but he also knew they wouldn’t come to save him.

It, wasn’t worth it, it’d kill them.

Behind, the emergency roof hatch of the RV was thrown open, some of the passengers climbed up on the roof. One of them, a gas-masked man named Mosley, brought his sniper rifle to watch just in case that thing got out of control, not the creatures Henry was going to kill, the one he would become. When Henry looked back, he could see everyone on that roof was armed.

Looking back was the wrong thing to do.

A roar came from behind a car he was passing, one of those things leaped out at him. Its legs had dissolved to goop, but its hands remained, the blackness sharpened into claws meant to tear Henry’s throat out. The moment froze, this creature that was Henry’s height, or it had been before its bottom half had melded into a twisted mass of black ooze and flesh. The sun shone off of slick parts on its body where the toxic sludge gathered and dripped, spraying behind dramatically as it lunged.

With reactions faster than he still believed possible, Henry managed to raise the crowbar and drive it into the thing’s face with its own momentum driving the metal square between its glowing white eyes. A scream built up in his throat and he roared as he spun, throwing the body aside and ripping his tool free, agony beginning to leak from his hurt arm into his chest. He drove the crowbar again into the place where its skull had been, again and again, unafraid of the splatter and toxic spray, heartbeat throbbing in his hands, now covered with the infectious black goop.

He could feel the change come over him, the way his heartbeat slowed to an almost stop, the way the black spread up his arms into his chest and mind like fire, the way they twisted into claws and his body felt ready to spring, or maybe snap. He knew from the others that his eyes became black, irises glowing white, and that the black leaked into his hair, making it longer and wild, slick with this disgusting black slime. The gunk buildup in his throat became too much and he doubled over, gagging as it began to leak into his mouth with a taste more foul than bile.

And then everything went black, and Henry wasn’t there anymore.

The creature that was there threw its head back and screamed, a sound identical to the things that had brought humanity to its knees.

From the roof of the RV, the passengers watched in horror and fascination as the change came over their friend, as it started moving closer, then running towards the capsized truck. The things swarming the semi rose to a frenzy, looking towards the newcomer and then charging, shambling at him with surprising speed. The figure on top backed up in fear, only to freeze as the figure leaped, driving the sharp head of the crowbar into the head of a creature, ripping it clean off and throwing it into another.

Whoever, whatever it was barely looked human, black ooze dripping from their wide smile and mad eyes, further splattering their clothes as they ripped into the creatures one after another, undaunted by their numbers. The crowbar became lodged in the half broken ribs within the ectoplasmic exoskeleton of one of the infected, and the strange creature roared in anger. It threw the crowbar- and the zombie attached- aside and lunged, clawed hands sinking into the half collapsed skull of creatures like it was no more than putty. It ripped apart with a sickening sound and made wonderful throwing material, which the thing threw in its fury, blinding two of the beasts.

The stranger cackled hysterically, seeming undeterred as one of the creatures grabbed them and sunk its teeth into their arm, only to come away with even more black goop. The beast became confused, staring at this creature, neither human nor monster, that laughed again and drove its claws through the skull of their attacker with glee.

It became a mess, the stranger thrashing and fighting in the black ooze with insane energy, laughing and growling and shouting in that inhuman voice.

Soon, all that remained of any of those things were puddles of black goop, slowly dissolving and evaporating at the feet of this entity as it caught its breath, leaving behind the half decayed corpses of the humans they had puppeted. Slowly, it straightened and approached the semi-truck, climbing with human agility to the same level where the new survivor was waiting. The survivor, a mere boy, backed away even further, reaching the edge of the tipped tank, risking falling as this thing approached them, bat raised in defense despite how the creature had torn the infected apart like nothing.

Then, it slicked back its hair from its eyes, wiped its mouth a bit and grinned in almost a pleasant manner. “Afternoon lad.”

“Y-you can talk?” the lad asked, shaking, holding the bat defensively. 

“Aye, I can. The name’s Edward, my friends and I saw your little predicament and I decided to uh, step in.” Edward stretched his arms on either side and exhaled dramatically, “Ah it feels good to walk again, been cooped up for almost three days now, bloody boring y’know?” Slime dripped off his hands, not coming from him, but still evaporating from the beasts he’d ripped apart.

“What, what  _ are  _ you?” the boy demanded, waving the bat in a threatening manner. Edward raised an eyebrow, unimpressed at the young man attempting to be threatening whilst shaking like a leaf, “Seriously? You’ve never heard of me? The man who survived a bite? The half creature?”

No answer.

“Wow I clearly need to start spreading my reputation.” He looked towards the RV and waved, “Ah well, we’ve got a ride if you’d like one. We’re headed east to Russia, the stronghold.”

“That’s, that’s where I was going, my car ran out of gas.”

“Want a ride?”

“With, with you?”

Edward laughed, “No! Course not with  _ me _ , I’m going to be gone in about, oh, half an hour? You’ll get to meet Henry then, real doll, you’ll like him. What’s your name?”

“J, Jasper,” the lad said nervously, keeping his distance even when Edward offered to shake. Only the idiot touched the black stuff without protection, and Edward was positively  _ covered  _ in the stuff though only part of it was his, leaking from him like sweat. 

He didn’t seem bothered by the rejected motion of politeness, shrugged, and turned to climb off of the tipped over semi trailer, shoes squishing in the remains of the black creatures as they dissolved from the rotting human bodies that remained. Without care, he began to rummage through the goop, through the pockets of the people beneath the goop, only to come up with nothing each time. A shame, he’d found good loot there before.

Behind, Jasper carefully climbed down onto the roof of another car, carefully avoiding the black toxic sludge puddles with grace. He looked over to the RV covered with people as it drove closer, and was surprised to see even more get out of the trailer on the back, wasn’t that dangerous?

Well, wasn’t travelling with an infected dangerous too?

But, he wasn’t infected, because he still spoke, he hadn’t killed Jasper, he still seemed mostly human. No, he was infected, but not consumed.

Jasper had heard stories as he passed through different outposts, about the few people immune to this curse, virus, parasite,  _ thing,  _ that grew to have almost control over it, whose bodies became a symbiotic bond of human and shadow-thing. He’d thought it impossible, the control part, yet here was one of them before him, examining a corpse’s wallet and throwing it away with a pout.

Clearly it wasn’t so symbiotic as people made it sound.

One of the people on the RV, the scary one with the gas mask and sniper rifle, hopped off and walked over to Jasper, slinging their gun over one arm. Jasper grabbed his backpack where he’d dropped it in the flight from the infected as this new person approached. They offered him a hand, “Ethan Mosley, welcome to the Society.”

“You, you guys have a name?” Jasper asked, shakily reaching to shake his hand. Named groups of survivors were never a good thing, that meant they had a leader, a power structure, that meant there were rules and control, that meant danger.

“Of course, there are so many of us we have to.” Mosley chuckled, “But, don’t worry, we’re all just a team, no leadership or weird cult thing going on here.”

“Hey Lanyon? Think it’s time for a dinner break while we clear a path?” a portly man with light colored hair called as another with curly dark hair and freckles stepped out of the driver’s seat. This person looked towards where Edward was still digging around in the sludge, “We have to wait till he changes back anyway, might as well. Everyone round back! Keep an eye out.”

“You hungry kid?” asked Mosley, gesturing to Jasper, his voice smiling despite the freakish mask.

Jasper blinked, and nodded desperately.

 


	2. Puzzling Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasper settles in, two strangers are met, and danger arrives with a scream.

It must’ve been later in the day than they suspected, because by the time a fire had been built to warm up the Society members, the sun began to set. The survivors talked in low voices, discussing who was to take the night drive while Henry rested from his ordeal. Jasper, with half a can of pineapple clutched in his hands, had come to the conclusion that Henry was who that Edward guy really was.

Well, not “really was”, but normally was. Or just, was? Didn’t make sense yet.

God this pineapple was a god send, no food for a week and now he was finally getting something in his stomach that wasn’t snow, dried squirrel meat, or… He shuddered at the thought.

Maybe these survivors would let him show them his hunting methods, he was good at catching wild animals, it was how he’d survived this long. The same traps worked for the infected, when they were a little bigger, but then again these people seemed nomadic… Hunting and traps only worked for stationary groups.

Jasper looked up as a young woman sat beside him, he’d heard that Mosley fellow call her Rachel. She smiled sweetly at him, “How you holding up?”

“Meh, been better.” He swallowed his mouthful of pineapple and scrubbed his mouth clean of juice, blush a bit in embarrassment, “I miss fridges. And cheese. Milk, bread. Bacon.” The thought of sizzling meat made his mouth water and he clamped his mouth shut, blushing again.

“‘God what I wouldn’t do for a cheeseburger’?” Rachel asked with a childish giggle. Jasper smiled a bit, “Yeah, exactly. Where are you from?”

“London, most of us are. You?”

“Dorset. Did you guys have a hard time getting out of the city?”

“I was with Henry, he and Robert helped me get out on foot. We ran into the others one by one as we made our way out of civilization and out, here. What about you?”

“I was out camping, only found out the news when I got back to the nearest town and found it swarmed with those,  _ things. _ ” Jasper shuddered, hand going to his bat. “I, stole this, from another guy who tried to kill me in my sleep. I think he wanted my backpack. It’s, a good weapon.”

“Looks dented, you might need something new soon.” She picked it up, investigating the scratched and stained metal surface with a frown until Jasper took it back, holding it protectively to his chest. It wasn’t that she couldn’t touch it, he just felt better with it in his own hands.

“Maybe I do,” He said with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have a weapon then?” 

Rachel grinned and held up a heavy looking frying pan, “Cast iron, lethal if swung right.” She offered him the handle, “Washed daily, so it’s safe.”

Tentatively, he reached out and took the pan, gasping in surprise when Rachel released it and forced him to cary the full weight. “Oh my god that thing’s heavy.”

“I’ve seen her take down a  _ bloated _ infected with that thing,” someone else said, sitting beside Jasper. They offered a hand, “Thomas Luckett, see you met miss Pidgley.”

Jasper shook and asked: “So, you guys just sort of, all met up?”

“It’s lucky we did. See, Pennebrygg had the RV and Helsby had the trailer but they were two towns apart. Sinnett had a bunch of gas but no car. So we just kind of started, accumulating people and their food and skills and supplies as we travelled. Now we’re all, here, headed to the stronghold with the whole rest of Europe.”

“Do, do you guys have a trapper?” Jasper’s voice shook as he asked, deeply worried they’d kick him out because they didn’t need him like the last group did. Luckett nodded, “We do, Miss Cantilupe, but she’s got a gummy shoulder and has trouble fighting and defending herself, we could use some fresh meat.” 

“Literally and figuratively,” another voice called, the redheaded man missing an arm, Sinnett. There was a chorus of laughter and Jasper felt his anxiety melt away a bit. These weren’t Apocalypse Survivors, they were just people stuck in one hell of a situation and making the best of it

Footsteps, everyone stiffened, hands going to their bludgeons and pistols. A man stepped into the firelight and dropped to his knees, breathing heavily. Without all the black goop on his face, Jasper almost couldn’t tell he was infected.

He didn’t even look like the same man, his hair was far shorter and his stature a bit more lanky, but he looked positively exhausted. The infection had evaporated from him, leaving faded black stains on his skin and hands and clothes, but no longer the toxic sludge he had been covered with before. Everyone relaxed and returned to their business as this man, Henry, shifted to sit properly on the asphalt, hands wrapped around his knees, staring emptily into the fire. 

It was a long moment before another sat beside him and draped a coat over his shoulders.

“Sorry Robert,” he mumbled, pulling it close around his shoulders. “Should’ve told you but, didn’t think I had the time.” 

Robert Lanyon began to rub his friend’s back, “Henry it’s alright, you didn’t hurt anyone and you saved the ki-”

“Not me. It’s not me. That  _ thing  _ is not me,” Henry insisted, curling up into a ball. “I never remember anything, and the way I act, there’s no way it’s me. It won’t even tell us his name.”

“He called himself Edward,” Jasper piped. Henry looked up at him and blinked, “What? It, he told you his name?”

A shrug, “He told me it was Edward, he acted a bit childish if anything but not,  _ dangerous _ , I guess. Didn’t seem like you at all, though, sir.”

“Sonovabitch stole-” he sighed heavily, “guess that’s something, he’s actually talking to us now.” He straightened up and ran a hand through his messy hair, in desperate need of a wash. “I uh, my name’s Doctor Henry Jekyll, y-”

“Jasper Kaylock, trapper, hunter, hi.”

“Yes. Uh, welcome aboard, we could always use more hunting help.” Jekyll smiled, but Jasper could see he was beyond exhausted and the practiced gesture didn’t reach his eyes. He seemed, sad, in a familiar sort of way.

Conversation drifted in the way that it does when no one wants to talk, and eventually went silent, everyone watching the fire with tired eyes and heavy hearts. Every little sound, the shriek of a bird, the scamper of a snowy hair, sent everyone into shakes, hands on weapons, ready to attack at the slightest movement. They weren’t peaceful, they were waiting and terrified.

The world around them was silent, the all too present hum of human life simply absent from the world they had built. Beyond the trees, there was no glow of a distant city on the clouds. The air was clean and cool, the smog of human activity already beginning to fade from the world after a month or two. Somewhere a gunshot rang out, but far away. 

The world didn’t need them to continue now, it never had, and it seemed to be healing from some deep wound, even as the blackness crawled its way into the heart of human life and crushed it.

Lanyon stood and kicked some snow onto the dying fire. “Alright everyone, pack it up, time to move. Load and lock the trailer, who’s driving?” His tone of voice was the same that Jekyll had used while addressing Jasper, but it carried a different strength, that of a leader.

“Griffin and I!” a man with spikey brown hair said. There were giggles and snorts around the campfire and the man bristled, “Hey!?”

“Okay who  _ else  _ is driving?” asked Lanyon while rolling his eyes, all too aware of how the two would distract each other or wake everyone with their bickering.

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” a woman with glasses and long black hair tied up in a bun said, giggling. “I’ll make sure we don’t crash because Archer nods off again.” Oh yeah that too.

“Lavender!” Archer cried indignantly, even as Griffin, his white-haired friend, nudged him playfully.

More laughter, and everyone got up from their seats, spirits lifted a bit. A torch was lit up, cloth soaked in black ooze and lit ablaze, surrounding the trailer and RV with light. Jasper helped carry a box of supplies from the RV, watching as blankets and sleeping bags were removed from inside of the trailer. It was packed with everything they could remove from the RV, even the table, and locked tight before literally everyone squeezed into the RV. The shoes went into a cabinet, latch thrown for safety, glasses and pocket items tucked in drawers that were locked, blankets covered the floor and tired pillows were scattered among them. A few tattered sleeping bags were rolled into pillows, and others were unzipped into blankets, there wasn’t nearly enough space. The older survivors took the bed, as well as the injured woman Jasper hadn’t seen come out for dinner.

Her name was Flowers, they’d found her beat up and hiding, she needed rest, but greeted Jasper with the same tired and friendly smile when he went to say hello.

Jasper stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment before Rachel, the nice girl who’d talked to him, motioned him over to her spot. He pulled off his coat and folded it up, seeing as there were no spare pillows, and lay down in the open space near Rachel. She smiled and childishly pat his head, “Welcome to the Society Jasper.”

“Uh, thank,” he answered, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Rachel scoot closer to him to make space for someone else, and he fought the urge to blush a bit. He forced down his hormones, remembering that this was no for embarrassment here, as there was literally no room.

The RV’s engine rumbled to life and started off steadily down the road. The soft chatting dissolved into gentle snoring and breathing, crowded conditions made the air warm but an open window kept a cool breeze circulating just overhead. Jasper lay awake for a long time, conflicted, staring at the worn ceiling.

Should he put his trust in these strangers? They seemed to trust him.

And that Jekyll guy… Infected, but not consumed.

Infected, but not consumed.

Infected.

Jasper’s eyes fell closed and his head rolled to the side, asleep.

~

They’d stopped when morning rolled around.

Jasper awoke to anxious chatter while wrapped in three blankets, clearly he was one of the later survivors to wake. He saw two people still asleep on the bed, that Flowers woman, and the one Jasper had learned was called Lavender. The bruises on his back from when he’d run, the aching dog bite on his arm, all of it hurt as Jasper sat up with a hiss before getting to his feet. 

The clamor outside got a little louder and he looked out the open RV door and frowned.

Ahead was a bridge over what looked like a healthily running river, no infected in sight, but a heavy pileup of cars that looked deliberate. Jekyll and Lanyon stood in front, calling out to someone, a tall, broad shouldered man with dark hair carrying what looked like a very large rifle. 

“We only want to cross the river! Can you let us pass?”

“Absolutely not!” called the shrill voice of a small, light haired woman who stood beside the man, dressed in some hefty furs. “Not only are  _ you  _ infected, for all we know, you’ve lead Moreau here!”

“Who the hell is Moreau?” Lanyon asked.

“Clearly  _ he  _ wasn’t listening at the last stronghold,” said Mrs. Cantilupe, the other hunter, her own rifle slung over her back.

“Aye, Moreau was positively the talk of that place, after he’d gone through and waltzed out with their infected like the pied-piper,” another older gent, Dr. Maijabi, said with his arms folded.

“What’d he do?” Jasper asks, stepping out, taking his bat from where he’d left it inside and pulling on his heavy jacket.

“Moreau? They say he’s a half-infected, dear, like Jekyll,” Cantilupe explained, turning one of her hands over in mid air as she spoke. “However, where our ‘leader’ becomes a fighter when his infection gets worse, Moreau somehow became, I don’t know, a leader of the infected themselves. They listen to his orders, and we heard that he brought a hoard with him, ravaged the place, and walked out with all their ammunition, the infected, and the one half-infect they had. Don’t ask me how he controls them, I don’t know.”

Jasper swallowed hard, “So that old woman, thinks we brought him here because Jekyll’s a, half-infected?”

Cantilupe shrugged as the woman began shouting again, only to dissolve into heavy coughing.

“You there! All of you! What are you doing just  _ standing  _ there?” she demanded between wheezy breaths. “If you want to pass, there are more than enough of you to attack!”

“Why would we though?” called a man armed with a harpoon gun, Helsby. “Listen, madam, we’ve got no quarrel with you, we just wanna know if we can get past the bridge! We probably won’t be the first, everyone’s headed east to the stronghold in Russia!”

The woman seemed irritated, but her tall companion stepped forward, “Stronghold? We haven’t heard about such a thing.”

“They’ve got a radio signal out on AM radio, they’re calling for survivors to make the trip, medicine, food, water, power!” Lanyon explained, using his most democratic voice and posture. “Madame, sir, surely you’ve had other travellers come this way looking to pass through!”

“We’ve only been here about a week, actually,” the man said, putting his rifle on his shoulder. “The cars are to keep those things and people from crossing to where our camp is set up.”

“Adam!”

“And did you say this stronghold has medicine?” the man, Adam, continued, despite how his small friend seemed to get increasingly irritated. “Victoria has been getting ill frequ-”

“Don’t tell them who we are!” she snapped at him.

“You already told them my name,  _ Mom _ ,” he deadpanned in response. “The point is, you think they might be able to help?”

“Maybe, if it isn’t some big trap,” Jekyll explained, hand going subconsciously to his bite. From behind, Jasper tilted his head slightly, curious by the whole scenario and worried now that this place that was calling everyone to Russia was in fact a trap. It was no secret you could not trust strangers when you were weaker than them, unless they were incredible kind like the Society had been so far. The idea that someone had medicine, power, food, water, all of this in this world where things had been ripped out from humanity, it was too good to be true.

Perhaps that was the ulterior motive for Jekyll gathering the Society’s survivors, he didn’t want to walk into this place unprepared and unarmed, he didn’t want everyone alone and at disadvantage. Maybe, Jasper would ask later.

“But even if it is a trap, we need to try!” Jekyll said optimistically, gesturing proudly with his hands. “Please, let us pass, if it’s true we’ll come find you!”

“Actually, we have a truck, we could join you,” Adam said, looking at his friend Victoria. She scowled and folded her arms, looking away with a huff, coughing quietly into her hand. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“To be frank however, we have zero reason to trust you, just as you’ve no reason to trust us,” Jekyll continued, putting his hands on his hips. “If you clear the bridge, well, we can give you a chance.”

Lanyon put a hand on his shoulder, “Henry, I think we ought to ask the others first.”

“What?”

“Put it to a vote?”

Jekyll paused, glancing back at their fellow survivors, all watching curiously, some worried, some optimistic. He sighed, “I suppose you’re right. We’ll talk with everyone, give us a moment.”

“I’ll start clearing a path while you talk,” Adam said, nodding and slinging his gun over his shoulder. 

Jasper tilted his head and snuck away, going around the RV to watch the two. He glanced at the Society, watching them chat, then jogged over to the blockade. The woman, who was ow seated on the side of the bridge, watching her burly companion begin to roll the cars out of the way, had her arms folded in a grumpy manner and was frowning. She wore a heavy coat and small, shiny glasses that glinted when she looked over at Jasper.

“Well? What do you want?” she snapped, her accent distinctly Swiss.

“I uh, I wanted to say hi, and say I only met these people last night.” He smiled in a way he hoped was sweet, “They’ve been, really nice actually. Not much room for cruelty when everyone’s living on a shoestring in the same RV.”

“They all fit in that cardboard box of a car?” she, Victoria, asked with a raised eyebrow. “How?”

“Determination, I think. And a uh, disregard for personal space.” He chuckled and looked back at them, folding his arms. “They’re, nice though. I understand why you’re, you’re worried miss, I-I mean I was too but… They seem alright.”

“I’m not worried about them, if Moreau finds any of us, especially with that friend of yours-” she nodded towards Jekyll for effect- “We’re dead.”

“What makes you say that?” Jasper asked, frowning in worry and looking towards Jekyll. The doctor was rubbing his hand in worry, perhaps his bite was bothering him. 

Victoria made an angry sort of noise, “Well, Moreau got damned lucky, somehow he didn’t get infected and somehow those things _listen_ to him, who knows what he can do with someone like your friend who plays both sides at once as it is. And don’t think I don’t see those bandages on your hand _Kid.”_

Jasper swallowed hard, hand going to his wrist. “It was a dog bite, not an infected. I’m not, I’m not  _ special _ , I’d be dead if I’d got bit.”

“Unfortunate, I think, that the only way we know if someone is immune, is if they die or not,” Victoria said, wrapping her coat a bit tighter around herself. 

There was a loud grinding of metal and her friend, Adam, pushed aside one of the cars, finally clearing a gap wide enough for the RV and trailer to rumble through. He strode over to the two and Jasper was struck by just how tall and broad shouldered this individual was, and intimidating, what with the scars crossing his face and hands. He looked more suited for a thrash metal band than helping a little old lady. And he hardly looked like her son, well, except for the eyes maybe.

Adam noticed him staring and raised a brow, “What?”

“N-nothing!” Jasper squeaked, thoroughly intimidated, folding his hands behind his back like a good little schoolboy. “D-did you work out?”

“No.” The answer was monotone and deadpan, but Jasper could appreciate the conciseness.

“Mr. Adam! Ms. Victoria!” called Doctor Jekyll’s voice as he jogged over. He folded his hands and smiled, “Good news, most of my friends have agreed to allow you to tag along. Although, you’ll have to drive your own car since we’re, kind of out of room.”

“We have my truck, it won’t be an issue,” Adam said. “We don’t have many provisions, but I can hunt. And if you provide another driver, we can keep up all night.”

“Good! Wonderful and-”

An ear splitting scream tore through the air and Jasper covered his ears in pain. Victoria’s face went pale and Adam gripped her shoulder, “Mom, get to the truck. Doctor, get your people in that RV and follow me.”

“The hell is that?” Jasper asked, voice cracking in fear, hand going to the weapon at his hip as the other survivors braced for attack.

“Moreau, ‘bout time he got here. We have to move, now!” 

“LOAD UP WE HAVE TO MOVE!” Lanyon cried as the survivors began to panic a bit when another scream split the air, followed shortly by another one. Then another, and slowly the sound of hundreds of cries rising on the wind. 

The RV rumbled to life and, behind the barricade of cars, another engine hummed into action and a large black truck turned onto the road. Adam rolled down the window: “Come on! We can outrun them but we gotta move fast!”

“We’re coming!!” Lanyon cried, glancing up as Mosley climbed onto the roof and strapped himself in with a thick strap. He braced his feet against the racks and pulled out his rifle, leaning it on his knee as he loaded it. The RV and trailer began to rumble off after the truck through the stack of cars meant to be a barricade, moving carefully not to scratch the RV

Mosley raised his sniper rifle and peered through, examining the supports holding a car atop the barricade. He lifted the scope to the hill they were leaving behind as the RV picked up speed, just in time to see those  _ things  _ begin to sprint, properly sprint, over the crest and down towards them. They were all making that sound, that haunting, echoing screech that they shouldn’t have been able to make.

And then, something new.

Among the hunched and shambling figures, one that stood tall, hair wild and matted, dripping with sludge like Hyde, standing among them unharmed.

Moreau.

Mosley was struck stunned for a moment, lowering his scope and raising his mask to be certain his eyes hadn’t lied. There that figure stood, tall, proud, and commanding among the desecrated and infected.

He aimed the rifle scope again and fired, tumbling top car back into the space that’d been pushed clear, restoring the barricade. Black slimey limbs flailed on the other side, too dumb to climb over, they’d be stuck for long enough for the Society and the Frankensteins to escape. But if they stayed on this road…

“Doc, if we stay on this road it’ll be easy for him to follow us, we need to either take some back roads or drive really really fast for a really really long time,” Mosley said, lifting the radio to the mouth of his mask as he pulled it back in place.

_ “We’re going to follow the Frankensteins, when they stop we’ll refuel and give them the third radio. Remember, use yours sparingly, we’ve got limited batteries and no super markets for at least twenty miles.” _

“Roger, Doc.”


	3. Two Kinds of Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conclusion is drawn, Victoria stirs up trouble, they survive one horde, and run panicking from another.

They drove, following the Frankensteins’ lead, for eight hours as the sun crawled its way across the sky and behind the horizon. Cards were played by flashlight, memories discussed in hushed voices, and a few people tried to sleep in the bedroom where the door was shut.

“Look if it were a virus the bodies would still be remotely human, as viruses cause symptoms, human bodies don’t emit toxic black sludge as a  _ symptom _ ,” Tweedy was saying, tapping his gloved finger on the floor. There were white bandages wrapped around the right side of Tweedy’s face, specifically covering his eye, but even from here Jasper could see a black shadow creeping from beneath. Then again, Tweedy didn’t have the sickly pale color that came with those that Jasper had seen who were, symbiotic. 

Jekyll was unhealthily pale, even for his ordinary skin pallor, and it seemed the red flush beneath his skin was almost slightly blue in color. The blackness, it was inside him, anyone could see it in the rings under his eyes and the deathly color in his face, yet he was more than aware and conscious, he was as alive as ever. 

Jasper subconsciously put a hand to his cheek, massaging the cold from the last spot where it clung to him.

“So where does all that black sludge come from then?” asked Sinnett, rubbing his stump of an arm. He and Tweedy had been infected, at one point, but frantic surgery saved them both from getting too far gone. 

“What if it grew from the infection itself?” asked Dr. Maijabi, sitting cross-legged on a pillow someone had thrown his way, hands on both his knees. He stroked his beard methodically while considering, practically all the men had facial hair, simply from lack of shaving, Jasper was too baby-faced for more than a slight scruff, it seemed. “Consider this, the infection is some sort of multi-celled organism. It uses the body as food and structure, while its own substance manipulates its motor controls.”

“Sounds like that fungus that controls ants,” Griffin mumbled over his card game.

There was a moment of silence.

“Holy fuck.”

“It’s fungus.”

“Of COURSE it is!”

Lavender’s eyes lit up and she made an excited motion with her hands, “I can further explain it too! Okay okay okay SO! Fungi are really really adaptable but they also need just the right conditions to form right? Alien fungus lands on earth on meteors, it has no idea what to adapt to, so it waits and slowly grows till it encounters a host.”

“Humans are so nosy, we walked right into it,” Sinnett said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head.

“Yes! But also the ones far from civilization, that one forest we saw burning because it was totally covered? But we were fine? That one adapted to plants first! Those squirrels we saw down in France, they were infected BUT Luckett got bit and nothing happened!” Lavender gushed, running with this train of thought. The man, Luckett, chuckled and rolled up his sleeve to show the scar of the bite, still raw and pink, but no sign of the black and oozing infection.

“Quite a stroke of brilliance Lavender,” Mrs. Cantilupe said with a smile, reaching over to pat the girl’s shoulder. Someone had said they’d shared a class, professor and student, and London Uni, and the compliment made Lavender positively beam.

“But, wait, then why are some people, like Moreau and Jekyll, immune?” asked Rachel, frowning. “I mean, if it’s just a case of a fungus that can’t grow somewhere it’s, gotta be something about them right?”

“Hormones maybe? Humans are, more or less, very toxic microbiomes,” Mrs. Cantilupe offered from the other side of her card game. “We’ve acid in our guts crawling with bacteria, iron in our blood, calcium in our bones, lightning storms in our skulls a-”

“Yes thank you Mrs. C, play your cards please,” Griffin grumbled, anxiously shuffling his hand.

“I’m, sure we’ll be able to find out more once we reach the Stronghold,” Lavender said sheepishly. “It’s, just a theory, after all.”

“A Game Theory,” Jasper mumbled under his breath, suddenly a deep ache in his heart blossoming for the endless drone of youtube commentary. At least that was ordinary.

The noise in the RV swelled as its passengers felt it slow. From the shotgun seat, Lanyon called: “They flashed their lights and are pulling over! We’re stopping for a quick break and then we’ll keep moving, got it?”

They got it, apparently.

Again, Jekyll and Lanyon went to speak to the newcomers, and Jasper was left hanging at the edge of the crowd, scratching at his arm. It itched, badly, but the bandage had to stay.

He jumped a mile in the air when Rachel tapped his shoulder. “You alright new kid?”

“I’m fine,” he lied, smiling at her. “Just a bit jumpy I guess, kind of happens when you live in a dying world.”

Both of them jumped as there was the sound of a loud crackling radio. Looking up, they could see a man climbing up there with a radio and a car battery. Rachel pouted, “Mr. Pennebrygg are you trying to radio the stronghold again?”

“We have five spare car batteries, I intend to use them for a better purpose than repair!” he declared, adjusting the radio antenna and picking up the mouthpiece. “Russia stronghold this is the Society RV accompanied by two others, Adam and Victoria Frankenstein, please respond, over.” As per usual, silence, but the man would not be dissuaded!

He turned up the power a bit, checked the frequency, and tried again. “Russian Stronghold this is Society RV and Company asking for human response to confirm your survival, over.”

Silence, once again, and he sighed. 

“He’s been trying to get in touch with the stronghold for a month now,” Rachel explained, looking to Jasper with a sad smile. “We never get a signal back, but their message goes out every night regardless. We’re, kind of worried it’s a robot.”

“Understandable, but maybe a little ham radio won’t-”

“ _ Society RV, come in Society RV we are reading you loud and clear,” _ a voice crackled over Pennebrygg’s radio, making everyone go quiet in surprise. He let out a whoop of excitement and turned on the mouthpiece, “Hello Russian Stronghold we are reading you too! What’s the status of things on your end? Over.”

The voice on the other end, thick with a Russian accent but with a skilled grasp of english and inflected with a bit of a smile answered: “ _ We are quite well Society! Walls are holding strong and disinfecting agent has proven promising on freshly open infected wounds. We currently have two individuals immune to infection, have you encountered any similar persons on your journey? Over.” _

“One! Our leader Henry, seems to have a symbiotic relationship with the infected and a second personality that can use it, has not proven hostile to humans yet. However, we are being pursued by a man named Moreau who seems to have some control over the infected while being infected himself. He’s amassed a horde of at least thirty to follow him and is giving chase. We’re trying to lose him, but it’s likely he will continue to chase us, over.”

“ _ We have heard of this Moreau, and have more than enough firearms to deal with him when and if he arrives. Keep your friend Henry safe, it is likely he contains yet another part towards a cure. Over. _ “

“Will do sir. Can you confirm your coordinates? Can you tell us ours? Over.”  There was a moment’s pause before the other individual began to rattle off numbers, Pennebrygg wrote furiously on a notepad and pulled out a map, tracing out the location and dotting it with a marker, grinning excitedly. “Thank you Stronghold! Will try to radio you once we’ve crossed into Russia. Over and out.”

He stood up and waved the map, “We have a destination!”

Jekyll looked away from his conversation, involving the transfer and trusting of a radio to the Frankenstein duo, only for miss Victoria to frown and say: “Okay! Wonderful, we have somewhere to go. But if we can’t shake Moreau we’ll lead him right there!”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to handle a horde Mother,” Adam deadpanned. “Otherwise they wouldn’t feel ready to send out a signal looking for other survivors.”

Victoria huffed and folded her arms, “Fine fine! I still don’t trust it.”

“Well trust us to get you there safely!” Lanyon said, sounding earnest.

“Frankly, I don’t trust any of you, least of all him.” She pointed to Jekyll, “I’ve heard about Moreau, about him controlling  _ all  _ infected, not just the ones turned into beasts made of sludge. Who knows! Maybe if we get close enough your friend will kill us before Moreau does.”

“Miss Victoria, I assure you if such a thing were to happen-” Jekyll wilted a bit, moving to hold his wounded wrist, “Not only would I feel it long before truly relinquishing control to the infection, but I would purposefully keep myself from hurting anyone.”

“Are you willing to kill yourself Doctor?” she said sternly. Jekyll’s expression softened, the color draining from his cheeks, and he looked away in shame. Then a thought crept into his mind and he forced himself to meet her gaze, “If you demand such a sacrifice from me, I can only assume your son is prepared to do the same.”

Victoria bristled, “How dare you insinuate my son is one of those th-”

“Mom, stop.”

“Henry, what are you talking about?” asked Lanyon, frowning in confusion. Jekyll shrugged halfheartedly, gesturing to Adam, “Look at him. He shares the deathly complexion that I’ve, acquired, since my own unfortunate infection. Please if I am incorrect, don’t take insult to what I am saying, but if it is true, by miss Victoria’s logic, you are as much a threat.”

“I would be, if the infection affected me at all,” Adam said, folding his arms and leaning back on his heels. “Three bites, nothing more than scabs and scars, no blackness, no sickness, nothing.”

“As if it can’t survive it in your system.” Jekyll again looked away in embarrassment, “Well, at the very least I know someone will be unaffected if Hyde happens to, er, go wild upon Moreau’s arrival. I’ll do my best to stay alert, should things get bad. It would pain me to no end to learn I’d hurt someone when not in control. In any case, we’ll worry if that situation ever arises, which I doubt it will, we’re making good time.”

“Pray it lasts,” Victoria mumbled, still glaring at Jekyll.

There came a shout and everyone turned to see Archer running over the hill behind them where he’d gone to relieve himself. He waved frantically, “Either load up or arm up we’ve got company!!”

Flashlights clicked on, the lights of Adam’s truck were turned on and faced up the hill in the dying twilight, lamps glowed to life on the hips of a few, and someone lit up a torch, all just as Archer reached the RV and stumbled, crashing to his knees and looking back in fear. Glowing white eyes became visible as a number of infected lumps stumbled their way over the hill with surprising speed. One collapsed as an expertly placed bullet from Mosley obliterated its head, another fell from a thrown rock. 

“Keep shots to a minimum! We don’t want to leave a horde for someone to find!” Lanyon called, taking Jekyll’s crowbar and marching to the front of the small armada. Jasper, inversely, backed away in worry, choosing instead to keep an eye out where the infected could come from the other side of the road. 

He considered them lucky they’d stopped on practically a cliffside, a wide road cut into the side of a mountain, with sheer rock on both sides. A climb of at least forty feet in one direction and a drop of another seventy that ended in trees and a river, at least the Infected weren’t stupid enough to try ambushing them from above. That didn’t make him any less worried, though, of another miniature horde coming from the other direction and closing them in.

As combat broke out on one side of their little spot, the other survivors expertly destroying the small crowd of infected as they had a hundred times by now, Jasper ran to the other end, darting past where Jekyll was still attempting to make peace with Victoria, both of them looked at him strangely and he could feel that one of them was disappointed. He pulled his own flashlight from his big fluffy coat and shined it ahead down the road as he ran around the turn, looking ahead with worry, metal bat in hand. He ran for a while, until the lights from the group behind faded behind the a turn.

His heart sank as white eyes shone back at him, so many more than were coming from behind, all clustered around a some turn off on the highway far ahead. And he could see why, just beyond this clear turnoff, a massive rock blocked the road with what seemed to be a crater. Behind it, cars were piled up in a traffic jam from a lost time, all the owners of said cars were standing before Jasper in a massive crowd of oozing blackness. 

“Kaylock!” someone called from behind as he slowly backed up in fear. Running footsteps, and another flashlight beam fell on the horde, turning more heads with those freakish, glowing eyes. Whoever it was grabbed Jasper’s arm and tried to pull him back, the voice sounded like Luckett, “I think it’s going to be a good idea for us to turn around and run now Kaylock, Jasper?”

He pulled away and sprinted back towards where the cars were parked, “Horde!! One of the meteors, it’s right down the road! We have to turn around right now or they’re going to get all of us!”

“Wait one of the meteors-”

“Right there? But then-”

“Oh my god there’s probably hundreds!”

“There’s a turn off!” Luckett called, sprinting up behind. “The highway, it splits just ahead! We can go around it, we just have to get moving before the horde closes it off!”

“That road ends in a town not far from here, we’d be walking from one horde into another!” Victoria snapped. “Turning back puts us at risk of running right back into Moreau, we have to fight forward!”

“Escape is better than fighting our way through a hundred infected, at least a town will offer shelter to defend,” Jekyll said sternly, glancing back at the already black and splattered survivors he felt responsible for. No one was bit, thank god, they were getting good at this whole “fighting off the undead” thing. “We’re taking that road, you’re welcome to follow but we can’t force you. That goes for all of you-” he turned to his friends, “If you don’t want to risk this, you’re welcome to speak now.”

“We’ve pulled riskier maneuvers before!” Bird called confidently, swinging his shovel onto his shoulder, “I say, Russia or bust!” There was a small chorus of cheers and Jekyll nodded, “Load up then! Be prepared for a bumpy ride and hold on to your weapons.” 

“We’re coming too, once you clear the way,” Adam said, despite how offended Victoria looked at his suggestion. She began to protest, only to be cut off with a sharp glare and a hand pointing at their truck.

Yet again, everyone loaded into their vehicles, but this time a few of the Lodgers climbed onto the roof of the RV. Mosley, of course, armed with his sniper rifle and a hefty light, but also Luckett and Sinnett, carrying a bag between them. Luckett tied a rope between them, then to the racks on the roof, so they were attached like luggage and less likely to fall as they worked. The RV started off, inching its way around the truck and then a bit quicker around the turn. 

Ahead, now barely illuminated by the headlights, were at least fifty writing infected bodies, and another hundred that had dissolved into nothing but toxic sludge as their puppeteered bodies decomposed.

Sinnett fished around in his bag with one arm, pulling out a bottle. In a soft voice, he instructed Luckett to thread a rag through it and light it with a small, cheap lighter. Luckett stood on the moving truck, swaying a bit unsteadily, before hurling the bottle as far as he could manage. It soared over the infecteds’ heads and landed with a shattering sound among them, igniting the black sludge in flame, like gasoline. The fire spread quickly, the infected raced at the RV, and the mobilehome made a break for the turn off of the highway before the infected would cut them off.

Mosley raised his rifle, and fired into the engine of a stalled car.

It didn’t explode, sadly, and he missed his next three shots as well due to the darkness and shaking as they rattled over forgotten blackened bones.

Sinnett and Luckett clung to the ceiling racks behind him, and he too abandoned his weapon to hang on for dear life as whoever was driving floored it. One infected slammed into the front, leaving a sizeable dent, but lost under the wheels.

In the cab, Rachel shrieked in surprise, her grip on the wheel tightening. She took a steadying breath and focused ahead on the road, she could handle this, she’d done it before. It wasn’t like Jekyll and Lanyon couldn’t drive, they were simply both hesitant to risk running into the infected, and given they were kind of on the clock, Rachel had impulsively taken the wheel. Of course now that meant she actually had to drive through the crowd of half formed sludge beasts at full speed, tumbling and racing towards the turnoff into the wooded area as the entire highway lit up in flames ahead of them.

The headlights bounced around ahead, and she saw it flicker over the large rock embedded in the roadway. To think, those things brought this world to its knees, just massive rocks.

Another infected sprung up and slammed into the head of the RV, splattering goop up onto the window. She almost casually clicked on the wipers and wrenched the wheel to the side, turning the speeding car towards the roadway off. Someone behind her started praying, and glancing back she could see her fellow survivors holding each other in place as the RV rumbled and shook. Rachel exhaled slowly, and pressed the accelerator down a little harder.

Their car practically jumped up as they skid onto the off ramp, it bounced and jostled and drew a few screams from the passengers. Jekyll stumbled into the cab and dropped painfully into the passenger seat, clinging for dear life as they rocketed down the hill. Rachel planted both feet on the break to slow their descent, eyes wide and locked on the road, expecting a bloated something or other to come running at them.

Instead, she saw another pair of headlights bouncing around as the heft black truck raced after them.

The road stretched on ahead, winding its way down the cliff, a long enough stretch that Rachel was safely able to slow the mobile home before stopping it just long enough to retrieve the jostled survivors from the roof. Luckett admitted to nearly having fallen off trying to avoid one of the Infected, but none of them had been bitten thankfully, though Mosley would’ve gotten plenty of goop in his eyes and mouth if it weren’t for the mask he constantly wore.

Well, almost constantly, he removed it to clean it and stunned positively everyone, since somehow none had seen his face.

Rachel, still at the wheel, finally began to relax, letting the tension at last melt from her shoulders. With a shaking hand, she clicked on the CD played, glancing at Jekyll in the passenger seat. “Well? How’d I do Boss?”

“You didn’t kill anyone, and no one got hurt,” he answered, finally releasing his seatbelt from where he’d tied it into a knot in worry, “So I’d consider it a successful maneuver. But I’m never letting you drive for me.”

Rachel giggled, and behind her the whole car sighed in relief.


	4. Fellow Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The caravan is stopped to greet new friends, chaos reigns, and friends are lost.

“I thought you said there was a town down this road,” Lanyon had irritably said while they had stopped on the second day. Luckett and a small team were siphoning gas from stalled cars, Mrs. Cantilupe and another team were out hunting after seeing a deer, the rest of them were simply hanging out on the highway road with a mountain at their back and nothing but trees and snow around.

“I never said how far down the road,” Victoria countered, coughing a bit.

“And the road we normally took was blocked off, if you didn’t notice,” Adam added towards his mother, running a dirty cloth over the barrel of his rifle. “If we keep heading east though, we’re making progress towards your Stronghold.”

Lanyon rolled his eyes hard enough to make his head hurt and stood from where he was sitting and stretched, moving his hand to where Jekyll’s crowbar hung at his hip. How was Henry? He’d expressed needing some time to, decompress, maybe that Edward fellow was causing a ruckus.

Maybe it’d be a good idea to go find him...

Which way had he walked off? Down the highway behind them to where a bunch of infected had been frozen in a snowbank, not too far back, he’d be fine. He had to be…

Lanyon shook his head and hurried off, why was he so worried about Jekyll? He knew better than anyone that, if worse came to worst, he’d be fine because of his infection. It made him stronger, braver, but also timid and afraid of himself, a double edged sword all things considered. 

God they’d both been so scared when he’d been bit, Lanyon had nearly mustered the courage to cut his friend’s hand of when that,  _ other  _ person showed up. He didn’t have a name then, and the first time he’d arrived had been something of a conundrum. Right off the bat he’d been violent, but like a caged animal is violent, freaked out, scared and confused, he didn’t seem to understand who or what he was, and for a long moment, Lanyon thought that the infection had given his best friend amnesia.

Then it turned out this new person had Henry’s memories but, wasn’t Henry, he’d made that very apparent. At the same time though, some of the resemblances were uncanny, in the way they acted that is. Jekyll had this little gesture he did when thinking, turning his hand over in the air and folding his hands behind his back, Lanyon had seen this Edward mimic that same motion without thought. It made it hard to forget they weren’t, the same person, they looked so similar and-

Lanyon shrieked as a blackened snowball crashed at his feet, accompanied by cackling laughter from atop the snowpile on the side of the road. Edward was perched on top of it, leaking black into the snow like a sick sort of snow cone, a snowball in one hand that was turning black around his fingers. He gave Lanyon a grin through his laughter, and Lanyon had to fight back a gag at the sight of black-stained teeth. “Howdy Robert!”

“Don’t call me Robert, please,” Lanyon said stiffly, walking closer. Edward raised a brow, setting his snowball aside and sitting cross-legged on the snow, “Why? Does it bother you to have your boyfriend’s body calling you that when he’s not in?”

Lanyon averted his eyes, folding his arms and frowning bitterly. “What do you know? You barely even have a first name.”

“I  _ have  _ a full name, you just never bother to ask!” he declared, sliding down the snow pile and dropping in front of the survivor. Lanyon scrambled back to avoid the slight splatter of black that inevitably flung off of Edward with his movements, staring at him in horror. “That and you never fucking talk to us. So, what, what’s your name them? And could you stop trying to get me killed?”

Edward dramatically rolled his eyes, “Alright you old windbag. And it’s Hyde, Edward  _ Hyde,  _ like Henry’s brother.”

“His, lost twin? But he died at like, three.”

“So I took it because I couldn’t think of anything else,” he said, folding his arms and nodding firmly. “Tell him that would you? I’m tired of him not knowing.”

“You, know what he knows? But he said he never remembers being you,” Lanyon said, hand unconsciously going to the crowbar at his hip. Hyde shrugged, “I’m not another brain in his head, I’m the infection, I’m always there.”

“So you know why we’re all scared of you.”

“Of course I do, I’m not stupid.” A smile tugged at the edge of Hyde’s mouth, “So, I am curious, why are you and Henry hiding it from everyone that you’re in loooooove huh? Trying to bury the hatchet so you don’t kiss him and get infected?” His tone was teasing at first, then outright, scathing mockery that made Lanyon bristle. 

“We don’t know how many of them are okay with it! The last thing we need is a conflict of interests because someone’s a homophobe,” the doctor said, squaring his shoulders defensively and staring Hyde down.

“It’s the end of the fucking world, if they’re going to let homophobia seperate them from a group that’s protected them, they’re idiots and deserve to have unnatural selection pick them off.” He giggled, “get it? Unnatural because of the infe-”

“I get it,” Lanyon deadpanned, scowling. “How much longer are you going to be around? As you said, I’d like my  _ boyfriend  _ back please.”

Hyde shrugged, flicking a glob of sludge from his shoulder from where it’d dripped off of his hair. He combed his bangs back and shrugged  _ yet again  _ at Lanyon, “Awhile I’d wager, y’know, been cooped up inside and all that.”

“Inside? Inside what?”

“Inside Henry,  _ duh _ .”

“Well you better-”

_ HOOOOOOOOONK _

__ Both men jumped and spun towards where their friends had been left and Hyde, despite himself, looked a bit panicked. They shared a look and made a break for the turn, eyes peeled for any threat aimed towards their friends. There was shouting, the sound of a cocking rifle and clanking metal, and upon returning, they found a large armored truck rolling up the road towards them. Lanyon motioned for Hyde to hang back and ran forward, pulling the crowbar from his belt.

“They just showed up!” Archer said as Lanyon ran up in front of everyone, crowbar drawn and armed. 

“Looks like a military truck no less!” Helsby added, grip tightening on his weapon.

Lanyon squared his shoulders, “If they wanted us dead they’d have gunned us down by now. Let’s see just what they’re after.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lanyon saw the Frankensteins backing towards their truck and didn’t bother stopping them.

The heavy armored truck drove up, slowed to a stop, and someone stepped out.

He was dressed in the same sort of dirty, ratty clothes that everyone wore these days, but over top of it all was a UK police jacket. He called out something in Polish, then the same message in English, “You folks lost?”

“No, we’re headed east, just driving along, stopping to do a little hunting,” Lanyon called.

“You’re english? Come a long way from England haven’t you?” The stranger sounded suspicious, and there was no secret his hand was on a weapon at hip. “Haven’t brought anything, have ya? None of your people infected?”

“Unless you count those who are more or less immune, yes.” 

The stranger scowled and hopped down, motioning for the rest of his party to exit the car. Most of them were carrying some surprisingly large guns. “I don’t know what world you’re living in, mister, but half-infected are just as dangerous as the full infected, if not more. And it’s  _ because  _ they’re still human.”

“Even if the infection doesn’t affect them at all?”

The man blinked, “Pardon?”

“You heard me, one of our half-infected is pretty much immune, and the other is under control and non-hostile, if an extreme case of Dissociative identity disorder.” Lanyon looked to his friends for support, and the resulting chatter and nods gave him some confidence. “They’re safe, sir, so you’ve no reason to open fire.”

The man frowned beneath his bushy, ginger moustache, looking back at his fellows. He said something in Polish again and the other survivors seemed to get excited, probably at the prospect of not one but  _ two  _ half-infected, but they didn’t seem as dangerous as their squad leader. 

Said leader moved his hand from his hip, revealing his pistol holster before walking forward and offering his hand. “Ex-sergeant Brokenshire.”

“Doctor Lanyon,” he answered, shaking firmly. 

“You said you all stopped to hunt, I’m guessing these are your friends?” A sheepish Mrs. Cantilupe looked out of the back of the armored truck, waving awkwardly as Jasper and Lavender peeked out as well behind her. Lanyon rubbed his eyes, smiling in embarassment, “Yes, they’re ours, did you get them out of a picky situation?”

“Actually, they nearly got us in one, almost shot one of my guys,” Brokenshire answered, gesturing to his excited friends. “You all seem, pretty normal though, I think I’ll let it slide. Where are you all headed?”

“The stronghold, out in Russia?”

“We haven’t been able to get any proper info or response from them, so we’ve stationed at a town a little ways from the highway, In addition to us there’s about ten, you?”

“Twenty two.”

And so the conversation proceeded, amicable enough, though distinctly neutral. Jasper climbed out of the truck after Cantilupe and Lavender, stretching his legs a bit, coat folded over his arm. Lavender offered to take it and his hat back to the RV, so he gave them to her, not scared to have his arms exposed for once. His bit was freshly bandaged, he’d taken care of it while out hunting so as not to bother anyone. 

With his bat at his hip, Jasper breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, he paused.

Over the chatter of everyone else, he heard another kind of voice, like guttural cult chanting, coming from the woods. He frowned and drifted towards it, hand on his bat just in case, brow furrowed with worry. If anyone else had been watching, they’d have noticed a twitch in one of his ears, not unlike a dog,

“Hello?” he asked softly, standing on the edge of the road, peering into the frozen woods, bathed in midday sun. 

Such a scream tore itself from Jasper’s throat as an infected, fully formed, leaped from the bush where it’d been hiding with incredible agility, grabbing the lad by his shoulders and sinking its teeth in to his neck. All heads turned, Rachel screamed, guns were raised, then Lanyon made motion to pause.

Something was happening to Jasper as the creature began to rip him apart. He’d stopped screaming, but he wasn’t quiet, he was growling. 

He ripped the creature off of himself and hurled it to the side, rolling on to all fours, a hand clutching his bleeding wound. But the wound didn’t bleed red, it bled black, the survivors gasped in horror. 

Other things began to crawl from the woods, hundreds of things, dragging and stumbling and shambling with undeniable purpose in their empty eyes. 

“He’s here,” Victoria said, backing away, scowling hard. “Moreau, he skipped the roads entirely, he cut us off.”   
“OPEN FIRE!” Brokenshire ordered to his men.

“Don’t hit Kaylock!” Lanyon cried, doing what he felt Jekyll would do, even as Edward grinned maniacally and sprinted forward, eager to sink his own teeth into the battle.

Jasper was still changing though.

Jekyll’s change from human to infected was subtle, he began to leak the black ooze and became stronger; Jasper simply seemed to be consumed by it. His form became covered in the black, spreading from his wounds in those spider-web patterns before followed by an odd sheet of the stuff that covered him as he remained on all fours, growling and snarling-

Then howling.

Anyone who wasn’t fighting for their lives turned to look, and saw what looked like the vague silhouette of a wolf lung at a creature and rip it clean in half. This new beast tore into the horde, frenzied by it’s own pain and human fear, fueled by the hunger of the infection. Edward couldn’t help but laugh, an infection created werewolf, maybe anything was possible these days.

The merriment was not to last, however, they were facing a horde of the undead controlled by a madman. This many infected, he must’ve dragged the horde from the highway all this way to hunt them down, there were at least a hundred and fifty in total, all ravenous.

Edward tore into them with glee, feeling his hands sink into the muck and ooze and then into the flesh beneath. He loved the feeling of his claws finding purchase and allowing him to rip them apart from the inside out. What was better, he didn’t even have to feel guilty about wanting to murder these things, because all the humans hated them too! He could indulge in his sick pleasures, so long as he was killing the infected by the score.

But, his recklessness was not without cost, and one beast caught him from behind. It was a bloated one, four times his size, bearing impossible claws of hardened mycelia that cut like blades when it swiped down at Edward. He shrieked and rolled out of the way as quick as possible, but the gash it scored deep in his side slowed him down.

It also pissed him off.

The survivors couldn’t keep up with Hyde, though.

Especially not Cantilupe. 

She and Lavender got cut off from the others as they’d headed for the RV to put their hunted goods and tools away, everyone had gathered near the armed truck to speak with the newcomers. All it took were four or five infected between them to create a nigh-impenatrable fungus-black barricade of gnashing teeth and swiping sludge. So the two women did what anyone would do, they ran.

Lavender held the supplies, all but Cantilupe’s rifle, which the old woman refused to let go of. It had been her husband’s, and she would fight with it until she died.

And she did.

All it took was a little snow, a frosty patch on the road that knocked her from her feet and onto the ground. Her hip, which had been sore before, felt like it shattered now, an ache that spread into Cantilupe’s legs and back like nothing she’d felt before, damn her old age! She tried to lift herself up, but her shoulder screamed in protest and her legs refused to move, she would not be able to walk.

Lavender skid to a stop, turning to help her up, when Cantilupe screamed: “Run Lilly! Get to the RV! There’s too many and I can’t move!”

“Mrs. C no!” Lavender begged, taking a step forward, then a step back as the hurrying black masses got closer. The old woman looked her dead in the eye, rolled onto her back and loaded her rifle. “I’ll slow them down! You get the RV started! Get everyone inside out of here! RUN THESE MOTHERFUCKERS DOWN!”

“Please no,” Lavender said, quieter this time, still backing away, unable to draw her own rifle with the arms full of Jasper’s things and their traps, empty. When Cantilupe started firing, Lavender choked down her tears, turned, and sprinted for the safety of their mobile home. Doddle and Bird dragged her inside and slammed the door shut, Doddle stumbled for the cockpit and revved the engine.

Lavender dropped her things, dropped to her knees, and tried to catch her breathing as Cantilupe’s gunshots rang outside, joining the haunting drumbeat of combat.

It was split by a scream that faded to a gurgle, and Lavender froze, the shock settling in, unable to think. 

The engine rumbled to life and Doddle floored it.

Without looking outside, Lavender knew they drove right past where Cantilupe’s body was being devoured. 

The RV shot in front of Adam, swiping the infected he was about to shoot out of the way and splattering him with black. He grimaced, loaded his gun, and kept up the assault when a sight caught his eye. There was a man in the woods, and he was walking towards them, the horde in front of him, draped in black, with those shining white eyes. Adam’s own narrowed into a glare, this thing that’d followed them all this way, that’d learned about them because they just happened to tell some passing survivors, this half-person who’d killed so many, it was time to end this.

But apparently not because Moreau, for who else could it be, jumped back in fear as a massive, black-furred, slime coated, white eyed wolf leapt in front of him, snarling and growling. He backed away, raising a hand, “Stop creature, I only want the humans.”

The wolf would not see reason, it would not even listen, and it charged at him, fangs bared, dripping with toxic ooze. Moreau’s eyes went comically wide and he turned tail and ran back into the woods. The infected suddenly turned too, distracted from their human prey, or perhaps ordered, and they raced after towards the wolf with that speed and determination from before. 

They simply, let the survivors be, more intent on protecting their queen bee as it was chased into the woods by the meanest and most wolfy hornet in Europe.

The survivors paused to catch their breath, the RV skid on the road and turned back, coming to a halt with a jerk.

“Who’d screamed??” demanded Lanyon, taking charge.

“It sounded like Sinnett!” Luckett said, worry written on his face. 

“Where’s Cantilupe?” asked Archer, looking around. The door to the RV swung open and Lavender stepped out, looking numb. Almost immediately, Rachel and Tweedy were at her side, asking if Cantilupe was inside. The young woman didn’t answer, turning and looking silently to where Cantilupe’s teal green coat could be seen among the black ooze.

She was gone.

Lanyon did a headcount, still struggling to catch his breath, still afraid the horde would turn back. He saw everyone except Jasper, Griffin, Sinnett, and Cantilupe, for even Edward was still here. Jasper, well they knew where he’d gone, Cantilupe was dead, that much was clear, but what’d happened to the others?

“O-over here!” a weak voice called. 

Heads turned, Luckett gasped and ran, “Sinnett! My God what happened? We thought you were dead!”

The red-haired man looked up sadly as he limped forward, “I am, though.”

Luckett froze in place, eyes wide as he saw the state of his friend. Sinnett dropped to his knees, the blood and black offal soaking his leg from a wound that pained him greatly, and he smiled. “S-Sorry lads.” He lifted his hand from where he’d held his stomach only for a second, and Luckett could see fleshy tubes torn and hanging from the wound where black was slowly seeping into Sinnett’s body.

“No…” Luckett stepped back again, eyes wide with terror.

“Thomas, please, y-you know what you have to do,” Sinnett said, eyes brimming with tears of agony as he held his intestines together, curling up in pain. “Please, kill me, don’t let me become one of those things, I don’t want to hurt anyone please kill me before I turn pl-” he looked up and his eyes went wide.

The gunshot knocked his head back and made him collapse backwards and to the side.

Luckett’s hand shook violently and he dropped the pistol, backing away, “Oh God, oh God forgive me, oh my God please let that be all.”

Pennebrygg came to his side, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, and getting a tearful hug instead. Luckett and Sinnett had bonded over explosives and fire, now half the duo was gone.

Two of the Lodgers were dead.

“Wait where’s Griffin?” asked Archer, his eyes going wide as he knew what this disappearance probably meant. 

They didn’t have time to look however, as the mutated Jasper-wolf-thing tore out of the forest with three infected clinging to its back. It looked insane, white eyes ringed with a red sort of glow as it thrashed and fought, throwing one of the creatures into Brokenshire’s armored truck where it splattered like a water balloon. The wolf howled in anger and pain, grabbing one of the creatures in its maw and ripping it away with a sickening  _ CRUNCH! _

It cast the broken plaything aside and swiped at the third and final, stiffening in fear as a gunshot knocked it free and dropped it to the ground, dead.

The wolf-creature slowly looked up to the owner of the gun, tilting its head. Adam, whose rifle was still smoking, glared at it. “Kaylock, calm down, I don’t want to hurt you.”

It tilted its head the other way, then dropped into a defensive stance, barking and snarling as it faced down Adam. The larger man sighed and shoved the rifle into Victoria’s arms, “God damnit Kaylock. Someone get me a rope!”

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, one of Brokenshire’s men threw Adam a rope as he charged at the wolf. The beast barked and charged too, tackling Adam and attempting to sink its impossible teeth into his shoulder. It yelped in surprise as he ducked, catching it in the midsection and pinning it to the asphalt as it writhed and yowled in anger. He suffered a few scratches, but nothing too dangerous as he neatly tied its legs up and backed away, covered in the black sludge.

“The HELL???” one of Brokenshire’s men demanded. “How ain’t you dead you sonuvabitch?”

“OY!” Victoria snapped, ready to turn the rifle on this man. But before she could do anything, all the guns in the armored truck were pointed at her son, and at the mutated form of Jasper, whose breathing was beginning to slow. 

And at Edward, who had been silently nursing a gash in his side while the exchange took place. He remained silent until he saw the barrel of a gun inches from his face, and his wide, dark eyes looked up at Brokenshire, who was holding him at execution point. 

“So you’ve got three of these fuckers?” Brokenshire asked coolly, looking to lanyon with a disappointed glare. Lanyon’s grip on his borrowed crowbar tightened, “They’re not fuckers. They’re as sane as any of us, especially Adam.”

Edward actually looked hurt by this statement, turning his gaze downward, refusing to answer. Brokenshire raised a brow, “How do you know? The man just tackled a fucking monster wolf who, I don’t know if you noticed, went rabid and killed half of those things before taking off after Moreau alone. He isn’t sane, not by a longshot.”

“You’ll also notice,  _ sir, _ ” Lanyon said, rage beginning to creep into his voice, “He wasn’t a threat till one of those things  _ bit  _ him. Infected or not, it takes another infection to trigger the change.” Part of Lanyon felt bad, he was talking out of his ass really, trying to cover for Henry and Adam alone. Really, he’d rather Edward didn’t exist, but to have him die meant Henry was dead too, Robert couldn’t risk that. Jasper, on the other hand…

What could he say about Jasper? Clearly the kid had lied to them, not only that, but he was a fucking  _ werewolf made of toxic alien fungus.  _ Why was Lanyon putting his neck on the line for Jasper, of all people?

It was because the look of disappointment in Jekyll’s eyes when he found out Lanyon had just let the boy go was too much to bear.  

Brokenshire glared harder as his men began to climb out of their truck. He said something in Polish and they moved with guns raised, gloves and masks on, to cuff Edward with his hands behind his back. A group of three moved over to Adam and did the same, though it was obvious they were intimidated by this very tall and very strong looking man. 

He came easily enough, but only because when he looked back to Victoria, he saw the fear and worry writ on her face. She’d never admit it, but she was scared for the life of her son, the only person she had left in this world. A nod was all he got when looking her way, easily mistaken for a motion of the head made unconsciously, but it was a promise to not let this stand.

The last two individuals were hesitant to approach the still form of the wolf, but upon touching it, the black crumbled away like a shell made of ash. The black, dust-like material it had become fell away to reveal the real Jasper’s form, bound still by his wrists and legs, sleeping peacefully and his clothes soaked so thoroughly with black sludge, they could be mistaken for black-dyed-clothing. The two shared a look, shrugged, and picked him up by his bindings, letting him hang between like a hunted animal rather than a predator. 

The three half-infects were loaded into the trailer attached to Brokenshire’s truck, far smaller than the Society’s but containing a padlock. It was emptied of game and the three were shoved in, Jasper still remaining unconscious and Edward too scared of the guns in his face to snap back. Adam was stoic and silent, biding his time as the door was shut and locked.

They were left in darkness.

“You can’t do that to our friends!” Rachel cried, storming up to Brokenshire, fully ready to cave his ginger head in with her cast-iron pan.

“They aren’t your friends Miss, they’re infected, like everything else out here,” the ex-sergeant snapped, gesturing to the quickly evaporating piles of black goop. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the short one and the  _ bloody wolf  _ would’ve just as soon killed us as any of those things!”

“Henry wouldn’t dare, Edward wouldn’t dare!” Rachel protested.

“Hear here!” one of the survivors, Helsby, crowed, raising his blackened harpoon. “That Adam guy has been nothing but helpful!”

“See?? You gotta let them out! And Jasper deserves a chance to explain himself!” she snapped, jabbing a finger in Brokenshire’s chest. He shoved her back quite forcefully, and she nearly stumbled and fell into the toxic sludge if Lanyon hadn’t caught her.

“I’m with Miss Pidgley, they deserve a chance to defend themselves,” Lanyon said sharply, keeping a hand on her shoulder. 

“They will, when we get to somewhere with an unbiased jury,” Brokenshire said stiffly, turning to join his team back in their truck. Lanyon and Rachel shared a look, “What? Where!?”

“Our camp.” He stepped up. “You all can come along if you like, defend your sick friends’ lives, but they’re gonna have to stand up for themselves.” Brokenshire slammed the truck door shut and the engine revved to life, backing up, then turning and speeding off down the road with their friends in the tiny trailer. 

“Those bastards,” Lanyon seethed under his breath, hating mostly that they’d taken Henry from him. 

During the discussion, the Lodgers began to chatter worriedly together, most of them lamenting the loss of their friends. Pennebrygg and Doddle guided the distraught Luckett into the RV where he sat with Lavender for a moment before they fell on each other, sobbing loudly. 

Archer stood at the door to the RV, listening to them cry, and bolstered his courage. Griffin couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t!

So he picked up his fireaxe and walked through the disintegrating battlefield of black sludge. He passed Sinnett’s body, and paused to lay it out neatly, folding what remained of his arm over his chest and zipping up his coat. He picked up Sinnett’s jacket that had fallen off in the chaos, and pocketed it for Luckett. 

Archer kept walking, and as he passed Cantilupe’s body, he did the same, sighing heavily upon seeing how most of her upper torso had been devoured, leaving her once regal face a fractured skull. He picked up her rifle and slung it over his shoulder, for Lavender.

“Griffin! Griffin where are you mate? You in the trees?” he called, walking along the edge of the woods warily, keeping his eyes out for the return of the horde. “Griiiiffiiiiiiiin! Jack!? Where the fuck are you??”

His shoe bumped into something and he stumbled back, axe raised in terror. He scoot back from the black thing, breathing a sigh of relief when it was still. But it brought a frown to his face, there was an awful lot of blackness here for one body, perhaps two or three had collapsed on top of each other? Archer tilted his head curiously, examining the pile as Rachel and Lanyon shouted in the background.

There was, also an awful lot of blood here, maybe this was where Sinnett had gotten gutted? No, no this was way too much blood, and… What was that grey stuff?

His stomach dropped into his shoes and Archer frantically pulled the gloves from his pockets and tugged them on. Frantically he picked up some of the grey stuff, gagging when he recognized it as brain matter and the rancid smell finally hit. Heart racing, Archer dug into the blackness till he felt something hard and pulled, revealing a whole, and fresh human wrist.

The color made him drop it.

In his entire life, he’d never met anyone as pale as Jack Griffin, but that was because Griffin was the only albino he’d ever met, but he’d learned to recognize Griffin’s coloring. Now here it was before him, stained with black, under a pile of toxic sludge. 

As Brokenshire began to drive away, Archer screamed for help, dragging the body of his friend from beneath the ooze, only to stumble back when Griffin’s head fell out of the blackness.

He gagged again, turned, and ran from the road to vomit as the others joined him. There were gasps of horror, for it was one thing to see the rotted bodies of people you’d never knew, but this was different somehow. Even Cantilupe’s shredded face hadn’t brought such a reaction from Archer, he’d been able to hold his stomach, this time though, Griffin looked like he was  _ watching them. _

It struck the uncanny valley so hard it sent Archer’s head spinning, and only when someone had come to check on him did it sink in that he’d found the body of his friend who’d so clearly blown his own brain out as opposed to let himself get devoured. Griffin had said he was going to do it, if he ever got infected, use himself as bait and walk out with a grenade in his hand and “blow up half a fucking horde right along with me.” Now he’d never get that chance though.

Clinging to Tweedy, eyes with with horror, Archer staggered back to the RV and was seated by Lavender and Luckett, who welcomed into the depressed group hug as it sank in that his friend was gone.

They only had time to drag the bodies from the road before Lanyon called to everyone to load up. They had to go after Henry, Jasper, and Adam, it’d be cruel to abandon them.

They couldn’t lose anyone else, not after that, and they couldn’t linger, not if Moreau might return.

Lanyon took the driver’s seat, and once he was certain everyone was inside, he started to drive, grip tight on the steering wheel, eyes focused ahead. This wasn’t over.

Brokenshire would have to make him go through hell itself to keep him from getting Henry back.


	5. Grief, Pain, Boredom, And Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria's bitchy nature comes in surprisingly handy.

They called it the Compound.

Brokenshire had set up shop in what was essentially a repurposed store where they’d happened to find a few shipping containers in the background that were all too perfect for barricades and prison cells. Apparently the three they’d taken from the Society were the only ones prison worthy and that was because they’d managed to live through the greatest plague in human history.

The survivors of the Society had been welcomed to the base warmly enough, but they hadn’t been allowed time to grieve for the friends they had literally just lost, nor time to speak with Brokenshire or their friends before being assigned jobs and dorms in the various areas. They outnumbered the original people at this base by at least three, but that wasn’t enough for a mutiny, not to mention how Pennebrygg barely managed to keep them from dismantling his RV for parts. 

When the Society met up at meal times, he would often complain about how he was barely keeping the rest of the mechanics from ripping apart the engine to fix the generator. No one was really happy with how they were treated either, like they were some sort of heathens and dissidents who needed to be converted, no one took them seriously!

Tweedy had tried to help them repair the electrified fence, only to get sworn at and nearly put in solitary for speaking out of turn. They’d called him Infected, saying Brokenshire should’ve just euthanized him when he’d found out Tweedy’s eye had been taken to stop the infection. They believed he was still infected, that he was marked, that he should be dead. The survivor had returned to his friends distraught and deeply hurt, wondering if Sinnett would have been treated the same way, and if the sensitive ginger would have been able to handle such an insult.

Would he have taken the same path as Griffin?

Doddle, charming and sweet Doddle who’d used to run a bakery, tried to get permission to use the kitchen and make some bread with the recently scavenged packages of Quick-Biscuit, as they only needed water. While he hadn’t been sworn at, they hadn’t let him, saying they needed to conserve water when in fact they had more than enough to spare a cup and have some fresh bread for the Compound.

Victoria was getting over her sickness, much to everyone’s relief despite the grim atmosphere. But, with the rise in her energy, she became more assertive and more vocal about her distastes at the way Brokenshire was running things. Being an ornery old woman though, no one really had the courage to counter her opinions. She was about the strongest advocator for the group, because Lanyon wasn’t doing much besides trying to get Jekyll back.

And then there were those who were still grieving. 

Lavender had refused to give up Mrs. Cantilupe’s rifle, and nearly had it confiscated until she relented to having the ammo taken, it stayed in her room most of the time under the blanket she’d gotten to take from the RV. Archer wore Griffin’s spare glasses, he’d found them in a drawer while they were cleaning out their mobile camp, and he hadn’t given them up since. Luckett seemed to be doing the best, he smiled and laughed and chatted easily enough, but Flowers had said she’d heard him crying in the night, holding Sinnett’s bloodied jacket to his chest. The three of them were freshly broken, given a grim and horrifying reminder that death loomed overhead at all times, even though this Compound pretended it was safe.

The growling and screeching of the unearthly infected came at all hours from beyond the concrete and metal, black goop oozed through the cracks and was scrubbed away hurriedly by the survivors of the Society, who were new. All of them, sans Maijabi, Flowers (who was still severely injured and now ill), and Victoria, had at one point or another, donned thick rubber gloves and Mosley’s mask to scrub toxic sludge from where it’d been flung over the wall.

It reeked.

Mosley was positively furious about his mask, not to mention. It’d been confiscated immediately with all of their weapons, and despite how he insisted it was one of the few things that’d saved him from the infection, he hadn’t been able to keep it. Instead, Brokenshire himself had shoved a surgeon mask into the sniper’s hands and told him to “suck it up, we’ve all got to make sacrifices.”

Translation? What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, when I decide to share that is.

The only good part about all of this was that the men finally got a chance to shave if they so chose, it was odd and someone unnerving to see so many of them lose ten years simply by losing the hair. 

“Why don’t we leave?” asked Rachel one night at dinner after everyone had aired their frustrations of the day.

Shitty soup, for the eighth time in a row, a cup for each of them and half a water bottle. The survivors of the Society sat apart from those of the Compound, not because they were shunned or not allowed to sit at the table, but because they preferred the more liberal company of each other than the people who wanted to kill their friends. 

“They have all our weapons and supplies though, Rachel,” Mr. Bird said with a frown. “They’d gun us down, and if they didn’t, they’d lock us in solitary for trying to leave.”

“All sixteen of us?” the young woman countered, keeping her voice low. “Come on, they’re a crew of fifteen, it’s a one-on-one fight. We have a chance!”

“But we’d need to arm up, and we can’t Rachel. Brokenshire has all our weapons locked in one of the safes this lot found,” Ito said over the rim of her bowl. She wiped her mouth, “Not to mention, Mosley’s mask is with the cleaning supplies, Pennebrygg’s keys are being kept in the garage, the ammunition is even somewhere else, all our food and water was assimilated with their stocks,  _ and  _ they’ve got a rotating guard.”

“We’ve got more than enough people to divide and conquer,” Rachel insisted.

“She has a point,” Victoria remarked, sitting down cross-legged next to Rachel. She pulled a can from behind her back and popped it open, “Besides, I know how to steal from these jerks, you just keep them distracted with lecturing you for ‘supporting the infection’ while you take the things.”

“You, stole a soda?” Ito deadpanned, looking disappointed. Victoria raised a brow, “It’s warm but carbonated.”

“You couldn’t have gotten something useful?”

“Like what?”

“Like, oh I don’t know, some sort of weapon?”

“We have a weapon!” she gestured to Lavender, whose face went pale. Ito leaned over, “You, do realize she’s got no ammunition right?”

Again, Victoria rolled her eyes, “We can get ammunition.”

“Look, guys, I can get the keys easily,” Pennebrygg said, casting a glance at the other table, “But keep your voices down or none of it is going to matter!”

“I’m with Walter, we need a plan before anything!” Doddle declared, sitting up straighter and stroking his mess of a moustache. Once it must’ve been a truly great stache, but time had ravaged it like everything else, though it still maintained its fantastic volume. Even after he shaved the rest of his face, he wasn’t quite able to clean up the stache.

“I’ve been on the guard enough to know that none of them really pay attention to inside the walls,” Mosley said, pulling up his surgeon’s mask again. “It would be easy to split up and get everything while most of the group was asleep, or when they meet with the Sergeant in the evenings.”

“Not to mention if Lanyon got in another shouting match, he could provide ample distraction to Ex-Sergeant Jerkinshire,” Archer mumbled, sounding extra bitter. Tweedy pat his shoulder and got a quiet nod of thanks, he still wasn’t doing well.

All eyes turned to Lanyon now, expectantly, and he quietly sipped at his water. When he finally noticed them staring he frowned, “What? You really want me to go demand our friend’s freedom while the rest of you ensure that if we get caught they’ll get executed for sure?”

“Pretty much,” Rachel said, tilting her head. “Like we have many other options, we have to get out of here and to the stronghold!”

“Can confirm, they’ve been radioing about us all week,” Pennebrygg added. “I had to sneak into the RV to assure them we’re on our way but, caught up.”

“You also forget that we haven’t decided where we stand with Kaylock,” Lanyon said, sitting up a bit straighter. “Even if all of us get out, what are we going to do with a werewolf?”

“I for one think he made a fantastic asset in battle,” Helsby declared, putting a hand in the air. “He and that Edward character positively shredded the infected, I don’t doubt that without them we would have been swiftly overwhelmed.”

“I agree with Ranjit,” Mosley said, tilting his head.

“Not to mention, the wolf only came out after Kaylock got bitten,” Helsby continued, gesturing excitedly. “It’d also explain his hesitance to fight the infected at any point, he was scared of getting infected and losing control. Contact with the material is the only lethal thing, not Kaylock. I think it’s rather remarkable how his mutation manifests!”

“Perhaps he was bit by an infected wolf, thus the infection thinks it still must take a wolf shape,” Maijabi pondered.

“Does that mean Luckett is going to turn into a squirrel if he gets infected again?” Tweedy asked, snorting with laughter. Luckett punched his shoulder, “Don’t joke about that, or you’ll join me in squirrel-hell!”

Their antics drew forth tired chuckles from the survivors before they relapsed into silence. Lanyon cleared his throat, “So, I assume the consensus is that we simply must keep him from being infected again and he’s harmless?”

There was a chorus of agreements and he sighed, “Great, alright, fine, if you say so. But, still, how are we actually going to get away  _ with  _ Kaylock, Henry, and Adam all at once? Sure they don’t watch the facility but, Mosley, isn’t there always someone guarding the crate they’re in?”

The sniper nodded somberly, “Yes. Ad the only ones allowed in are Victoria, on occasion when she can sweet-talk Brokenshire-”

“Bah, I have to bribe him,” Victoria groused.

“And two women in charge of their food,” he continued, casting a glance at Victoria. “Ito, you’re on good terms with that Rashmi woman, yes?”

Virgina’s cheeks got a bit rosy but she nodded, “Yes, we’ve talked and I think she considers me a friend. But uh, she has to stay, for Marigold. You want me to get her to help us?”

“It would help to have someone inside,” Bird said, shrugging.

“Right well, if you can convince her-” Victoria interupted, gesturing with her pilfured drink, “here’s what we’re going to have to do, Rachel you and…”

~

Brokenshire was standing guard on the rooftop of the building his camp was built inside, watching the infected wander about Outside with a sense of pride. He was protecting these people, both from those creatures and themselves, for they believed it was safe to be acquainted with the Infected in any regard. Those half-infects, he’d met one like that Jekyll guy, a young woman named Lucy.

She had been sane enough, but one night after a scuffle while she’d been turned, she attacked them. Poor Emma…

He shook his head and sighed, taking another drink from the tea he’d made, the kettle put-puttering away on the fire beside him. Thank God the building was concrete, they could have fires up here without worry. It was almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the screaming of the damned coming from ten meters below him.

And the crackling static of his radio.

“ _ Hey uh, Sarge? That doctor is stirring up trouble again, he wants to talk to you. _ ”

“Tell him I’m busy,” Brokenshire replied to the radio, rolling his eyes. This was the first ten minutes to himself he’d gotten all week and he was going to enjoy it.

“ _ Uuuuuh sir? He just, punched someone and is threatening to do worse if you don’t come,”  _ the radio-user said, sounding worried as faint shouting could be heard behind him. Brokenshire sighed heavily through his nose and stood, leaving his rifle, blanket, and tea behind before moving to the ladder hatch. He threw it open and climbed down to the upper floor, distant shouting could be hear, furious almost beyond measure.

“I DEMAND to speak to the Sergeant! It’s been two bloody-fucking weeks and he still hasn’t made up his God damn mind!” Lanyon’s voice screeched as Brokenshire pushed open the door from the stairwell. His partner, Ex-Constable Wipple, looked rather frightened by Lanyon’s demands. “N-Now Doctor, he’s busy! A-And the matter is a compli-”

“It’s decided whether or not my  _ boyfriend  _ and his friends are going to die! How is that complicated?” Lanyon snapped, hands balled into fists. He swiped through the air, nearly slapping Wipple, “They’re not hostile, they’ve been perfectly obedient, and even Edward hasn’t caused the slightest bit of a problem! So why aren’t they being let out huh??”

“They aren’t being released because, regardless of their behavior, they’re still toxic to exist around,” Brokenshire said sterly, butting into the conversation. He noticed his recruits, the majority of whom usually gathered in this area of the Compound in the evening to chat, breathed a sigh of relief upon his entrance, though Lanyon only served to become further irritated.

“They are not toxic!” he screamed, hands bunching into claws.

“My son is immune I made that clear! He can’t even carry the infection!” another shrill voice said as Victoria stepped out from behind Lanyon, drawing herself up to her full height with shoulders squared in anger. “I know the other two are mildly dangerous but at the very least Adam is safe to be around!”

“I’m not so sure of that Ms. Frankenstein,” Brokenshire said sternly. “We’ve heard them fighting in there, and if such an argument were to become regular during work hours-”

“You moron! They were arguing with Edward! Who isn’t Henry and who is only present a fraction of the time!” Lanyon interrupted. 

“On the contrary, I’ve heard this Edward’s voice more often than I’ve heard your Henry, Doctor,” Brokenshire said, heavy brow lowering into a glare. Lanyon froze, his eye twitching, well there went his argument. “They’re, not violent, sergeant. They can help. I know for a fact you could use Adam’s muscle and Jasper’s hunting skill. That boy isn’t a threat unless he gets re-infected and-”

“You don’t know that. For all you know he’s triggered by adrenaline or fear. A simple spook could have him at our throats, and I regard your Henry in a similar manner.”

“And what about Adam?” Victoria demanded. “He’s not a threat, he will do everything in his power to protect me and-”

“And as far as I’m concerned, that means he isn’t loyal to the Compound, which could lead to problems. It’s all or nothing here, and you’re moving dangerously close to that idea of nothing, Doctor, Miss.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lanyon asked wildly. “I just want my god damn boyfriend back!”

Brokenshire was quiet, his own shoulders squared defensively, hands balled into fists at his sides. “You want me to decide then.”

“Yes, and if you won’t release them, I’ll take them out of here with my people, and we’ll be out of your hair,” Lanyon said, calming his rage.

The silence was tense, the members of the Compound waited with bated breath at their leader’s decision. Brokenshire thought hard about this, those three had caused nothing but trouble and they couldn’t lose the sixteen people they’d gained from incorporating the Society into their camp. Maybe it was time to secure their allegiance the hard way.

“I have made my decision then.”

“And?”

“And they will be executed.”

The color drained from Lanyon and Frankenstein’s faces, “Wh, what?”

“They’ve caused nothing but trouble, and if their continued incarceration will cause you to leave, then they must finally die.” Brokenshire’s eyes were cold, “Release will cause us nothing but danger, and you and your people can’t leave. We need you all here, where it’s safe.”

There was a beat and Lanyon let out a strangled sound, lunging at Brokenshire and tackling him to the ground. Lanyon was scrawny, even thinner now from a lack of good food for almost two months now, but he still had muscle, and he used every inch of it to pin the Sergeant to the ground and drive a fist into his face. Once, twice, when he pulled back a third time, the barrel of something cold pressed against the base of his skull and he froze.

“Make another move, and I will end you,” the owner of the gun said. Shakily, Lanyon raised his hands and allowed himself to be pulled back. Wipple knelt and helped Brokenshire, whose nose was now bleeding into his moustache, onto his feet. His eyes were cold as he looked to Lanyon.

“Perhaps if you behave, we won’t have to make an example of you too  _ doctor. _ ”

“Sergeant!” the door swung open and Rachel stumbled in, her arms full of cans. The color drained from her face and she tried to stagger back before the young woman who caught her gripped her shoulder and forced her to face the Council of Judgement. “Found this lil bitch grabbing everything she could from the store-room, I can only assume she was planning to hightail it.”

“Abandoning the Compound isn’t allowed Miss Pidgley, I thought we made that clear when we brought you and yours in,” Brokenshire said darkly. Rachel pouted and set the cans down, “I was going to take food to the guys in the box, I don’t think-”

“Shut the fuck up,” the Sergeant deadpanned, glaring at her. He turned to Lanyon, “Looks like you’ve got company for the night, you can break it to her what my decision is, since the two of you won’t be able to watch.”

“What? What decision?” she asked, growing frantic.

“They’re going to execute our friends,” Lanyon seethed. Rachel stiffened and pulled herself free, “You can’t do that! They’ve done nothing wrong!”

“They’re alive when all three should be dead, that’s enough,” Brokenshire said, turning on his heel. “Now, I’m going to spend my evening in quiet, these two had better be locked away by morning, and Miss Frankenstein? You best go tell those of your people who remain what is going to take place tomorow.”

“They’ll fight back,” she said, watching Lanyon get dragged over to where Rachel was being held onto. “You know they will.”

“With what?” the Sergeant asked, looking to her. Victoria didn’t answer, knowing full well Luckett and Bird were supposed to be raiding the armory for their gear at the moment. Brokenshire nodded slightly, “You understand, be wise.” He turned and stormed off.

Rachel and Lanyon were dragged downstairs, silent and furious, Lanyon more so than Rachel, but to be fair she was working up anger when it finally clicked and they were shoved into a small room and the door locked behind. Lanyon leaped at it, tugging and pulling on the knob, “You motherfuckers let us out! We just want to leave!”

To his surprise, Rachel ran past him and drove her shoulder into the door so hard she cried out in pain. Rubbing her shoulder, she glared. “Sons a bitches, I knew they were shady but I didn’t realize that we couldn’t leave at all.”

“I had a theory, but I’m afraid to say i was right,” Lanyon said with a growl.

They were both quiet, moving to sit against the opposite wall, side by side.

“Think we bought enough time?” asked Lanyon, sounding worried and tired as opposed to his anger and fury just moments before.

“God I hope so,” Rachel sighed. “You know, you were only supposed to argue, not get our friends sentenced to death.”

“I didn’t get them sentenced to death, i just brought up the same points I always have, Brokenshire snapped and THEN I got physical.” He sighed, “Henry would be so disappointed in me.”

Rachel stared at him, and tilted her head to the side. “Did, er, Robert, did I hear you call Henry your, boyfriend?” A blush crept into his cheeks and she smiled a bit, “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just had no idea, and I was the first person you two saved.”

“We, called it off, kind of, after he got bit,” Lanyon said, looking away in shame. “I can’t kiss him now because he’s infected, his saliva is toxic we figured so, best not to risk it. I-it’s also safer in case we happen to run into someone homophobic. B-better to just keep quiet.”

“Lanyon. At least half the Society is bi,” Rachel said, giggling. He blushed brighter, “Oh, well, that’s wonderful, but um… we ought to be more serious right now. What’s the next phase of our plan?”

“I think Victoria’s got it covered.”

“God I hope so.”


	6. Hanging Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue is held, but at what cost?

Seven days.

It had been a week since Moreau had caught them unawares and killed three of the Society, leaving the rest in grief, and a week since Brokenshire had decided to be judge and executioner in a lawless world, taking three others and locking them in a metal box.

Now here they still were.

Except, instead of a trailer for a truck, they were in a shipping container with slats cut out of the ceiling and a bucket in one corner. Real classy. They’d made all three, well Henry at the time, empty their pockets before locking them inside as apparently a quarantine. And long story short-

Edward was fucking  _ bored. _

He continued to sit upside down against a wall, legs sticking up in the air over his head as he banged them against the wall in rhythm. There was literally nothing for he and Henry to do beside trade places every once in a while.

On the bright side! Neither had that stuffy pent up feeling that tended to happen when one was in place for too long. On the dark side-

Still fucking bored. 

Jasper had cried a lot that first night, and now spent most of his time quietly in the corner feeling sorry for himself and drawing in a smuggled notebook. Sometimes Rachel would come by and talk with him through a hole in the wall, hell Lanyon would do the same to talk to Henry, but that was always in the middle of the night when the patrol was off in God knows where. Victoria came occasionally too, she got to come in the day because Adam was her son and he was actually immune.

But nooooo, because Henry and Jasper were toxic only a fraction of the time, they were supposed to be shunned for the rest of their lives here at this Compound.

No one was supposed to come talk to the quarantined aside from the two people who brought them food each day. One was a kind Indian woman who liked red and introduced herself as Rashmi, the other was a young white woman named Marigold who’d been travelling with Rashmi and hardly spoke English. The two brought fresh water and food, a clean bucket, and smuggled them things to pass the time with.

However, when any of them asked about how their “trial” was going, the women would share a look and answer: “Difficult.”

“Why is it so difficult to decide if we’re docile or not when we haven’t torn each other to shreds by now?” Henry would ask, sounding truly pathetic and sympathy worthy every time. Edward wanted to vomit, but he couldn’t without infecting Jasper and getting ripped to shreds by the rabid wolf. Hell that meant he couldn’t do anything with Jasper because if that kid got infected, he and Adam were 200% fucked.

So, as stated before, Edward was really _ really fucking  _ _ bored _ _. _

He groaned loudly and flopped on his side, the worn mattress he’d been given creaking loudly.

“Would you shut up?” Adam asked from where he was playing solitaire  _ again  _ in another corner, adjacent to where Jasper was trying to doodle in a sunny patch. The larger man had been getting progressively easier to irritate as the days had wore on, hell they all had, even cool and collected Henry was beginning to get annoyed. Jasper was just, sad. 

Extra annoying.

So Edward silently rolled over and scratched another line onto the wall with his claw, if Henry wouldn’t keep track of days, he would. It was weird, the claws weren’t even technically part of his finger, but like a large piece of hard-shelled fungus attached to the first digits that was tough as steel. Well, maybe tougher because he could scratch plenty into the shipping container. They also made pretty functional pens when he used his own slime as ink, drawing all sorts of rude things on the steel floor in his unending boredom.

To say Edward was bitter was putting it mildly.

And he wasn’t the only one, that he was certain of.

A quick rapping on the door roused all three from their time-passing stupors and made them jump to their feet. The heavy metal door swung open and light shone in, making Edward flinch and blink, rubbing at his eyes in pain as they stung. Something clicked and a rough voice ordered: “Out. Now.”

The person was wearing a gas mask, but it wasn’t Rashmi or Marigold.

Jasper stayed close to Adam as the three prisoners wandered out into the sunlight for the first time a week. Edward took a deep breath of air that didn’t reek of human body odor and sighed, allowing his blackened form to be bathed in warmth before the barrel of a gun jabbed him between the shoulderblades. “Keep moving infect.”

He stuck his tongue out and got the rifle pointed in his face. “Whoah whoah take it easy, I’m only playing.”

He couldn’t see the person’s expression behind their mask, but their demeanor said they were scowling. Adam kept a protective hand on Jasper’s shoulder and glared at the person as they walked along. 

“What’s this about?” Adam asked, looking to their guard. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” they answered stiffly. 

Edward glanced towards the horizon, making note that the sun was getting low as he was jabbed in the back again by the gun. Suddenly a sharp and excruciating pain shot through his abdomen and he dropped to his knees with a wheeze. Their escort growled and raised the gun, only for Adam to push it aside. “Hold on, just give him a minute.”

“He’ll be okay,” Jasper added, shaking despite this at the sound of the man vomitting black sludge onto the concrete. The escort screeched and staggered back, gun raised in terror. Black mist began to rise from his form and he shook his head violently.

The black sludge fell from his hair like ash, identical to how Jasper’s form had crumbled when he’d finally collapsed. The claws on his hands dissolved and he scratched the rest away with human fingers, watching the dying fungus peel away in sheets to reveal raw pink skin and a throbbing bite wound.  Henry ran his shaking hands through his hair, trying to pull out as much of the dried blackness as he could while trying some semblance of dignity. He scratched and peeled and pulled the blackness from his face and clothes and skin, shaking horribly. 

Adam pulled him to his feet, “Come on stop scratching, you need a bath.”

“Like they’ll give us such a liberty,” Jekyll rasped, spitting saliva and sludge onto the asphalt with a gag. His looked sunburned, his skin irritated beyond measure by how frequently he’d had to peel the dried fungus from himself over the past week, God what he wouldn’t do for a bath or at least some snow to scrub himself free of the infection.

“You’re fucking sick,” their escort said, raising their gun.

“Yeah, no kidding, it’s called an infection for a reason!” Jasper said, putting himself between the gun and his friends. “But we’re not doing it intentionally! Why don’t you people get that?”

“You’re infected, end of story.” The escort loaded the gun and made a show of cocking it, “Keep moving.”

Jasper hesitated, then went to Jekyll’s side. He was still pretty covered in the black stuff, but the majority of it had lost its substance and become black stains on the skin and clothes, Edward’s infection-slime didn’t have much substance apparently. Jasper looped an arm under Jekyll’s and helped him walk along until he steadied and pulled himself away. 

Jekyll was so much nicer to be around than Edward, and while Edward wasn’t necessarily bad, he got on the nerves pretty quickly. 

And you couldn’t hug him, which sucked because poor Jasper was cuddly when he got scared and Adam had made it clear he wasn’t interested. Jekyll, after a little talking, was more willing to share his personal space with Jasper to pass the time.

The three were lead into the primary building of the Compound, past the storage rooms and into the center area of the facility, then past that. The Jekyll and Jasper shared a worried look, and Adam seemed a little unnerved, hardly letting it show on his face as they walked along and out through the barricaded front door and into the parking lot. 

The corpses cars, stripped of their tires and engines, littered the wide empty lot stained with black and bullet marks. Beyond the lot were the withering buildings of a small town, some metal, some concrete, very few wooden, all covered with snow. Mountains stood on the far horizon and the woods seemed to be crawling in around the town, an ever approaching force, once stopped by human life but now allowed to reclaim the land that had once belonged to the earth. A single chain link fence had been setup to create a rectangle with a perimeter of maybe sixty meters, large enough to fit everyone, but completely empty except for the members of the Compound. 

All of them watched warily for sign of the infected, but it was a beautiful sunny and utterly freezing cold day, there wouldn’t be many out.

Jekyll shivered violently, rubbing his arms and watching his breath fog in front of him. That’d been another reason for why he’d been glad to “snuggle” with Jasper, he hadn’t taken his coat or scarf with him when he last turned into Hyde before the capture, thus, he was dressed only in his trousers and shirt sleeves, all of which had begun to smell during their capture. In fact, all three were in  _ desperate  _ need of a wash. 

Of course, it didn’t seem like that was going to happen at this rate.

“I assume you’ve finally come to a verdict what you’re going to do to us?” Adam said, taking charge while Jekyll was too frozen to speak. Jasper tugged off his coat- that Rashmi had smuggled back to him- and wrapped it around the doctor’s shoulders.

“That’s one way to put it,” Brokenshire said sternly, his grip on the gun at his hip visibly tightening. “You three are nothing but a threat and a drain on the Compound, your very existence causes strife and pain, and thus-”

“You’ll be letting us leave?” Jasper said, clasping his hands hopefully. The boy wilted under the glare from Brokenshire, “No. For the betterment of everyone here, you’re going to be executed.”

All three looked surprised. Jasper ducked behind Jekyll, and Adam moved in front of both of them. “You’re making a mistake, Sergeant. If killing us is some way to make our friends and my mother behave, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“We mean to make an example out of you, and then of your friends Pidgley and Lanyon.”

“Don’t you touch him!” Jekyll snapped suddenly, pulling away from the group and storming up to Brokenshire. “Kill us if you must, but I won’t hesitate to defend my friends and-”

“And your boyfriend. We get it. He punched me to make it evidently clear that the two of you are incredibly loyal to one another,” Brokenshire deadpanned, pushing Jekyll back with the barrel of his pistol. Guns and weapons were drawn all around the small plaza, the three were surrounded. 

Jekyll backed away, “Sergeant, surely you can let us go on our word we shall not return.”

“And give your people further incentive to mutiny? I think not Doctor.” He cocked the gun, and Jasper shouted: “Where did you people even get all these guns?? We’re in Europe not the States!!”

“There was a military base not far from here,” Brokenshire deadpanned. 

“OF COURSE THERE WAS!” the boy exclaimed, sounding slightly panicked. 

“If this is an execution, you won’t just have your men open fire on us, will you?” Adam asked, sounding mildly irritated.

“No. On your knees, we’ll make this fast.” The ex-sergeant gestured this his head and one person broke off from the group to get the survivors of the Society. 

~

Rashmi was going to obey her instructions and go get the survivors, however, she was also going to let them know it was time for the mutiny to begin. She sprinted out to the back, “You guys! They told me to call you all out, we’ve got maybe ten minutes before your friends end up with bullets through their heads.”

The survivors, who had been hitching their trailer back up and stealing back their things while Pennebrygg worked on the engine with frantic energy, froze.

“Bird and I will get Pidgley and Lanyon, Pennebrygg you keep working on the engine,” Ito said firmly, gesturing with her free hand while the other held her shovel. “The rest of you? Give them hell and get our friends back.”

“Right!”

“Yes Miss Ito!”

“To victory!”

“Wait where’s Victoria?”

~

They had little choice but to follow the orders to kneel.

Jekyll fought to keep his calm, his heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel the wound on his hand beginning to throb. Edward,  _ Hyde _ , he wanted out again, he wanted to save them, he wanted to live even more than Jekyll. Didn’t help that beside him, Jasper’s panic was getting worse. 

The boy had dropped to his knees obediently enough, but his eyes were wide and he was shaking, hands balled into fists atop his knees. Jekyll could see the boy’s own bite wound, far from human, dark marks beginning to spread from it. Above all else, the infection had shown a surprising amount of self preservation. It may have been triggered in Jasper by new infection, however, it seemed his panic was going to do it this time. 

He jumped when Jekyll placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look away from the approaching boots. “Jasper, look at me, you’ve got to calm down. If you, change, now, there’s no chance of us getting out of here.”

“There’s no chance anyway, we’re, we’re kneeling to be executed,” Jasper said, voice shaking, eyes tearing up. Jekyll gave his shoulder a solemn squeeze, “Hope is all we have left, don’t lose it. They’ll come for us.” 

Three armed individuals stepped up behind the would-be felons, Jasper went pale when he heard their weapons being drawn and looked down at the ground again, tears of terror dripping down his cheeks. Jekyll sighed and did the same, bowing his head. He noticed that Adam wasn’t afraid and wasn’t bowing, in fact, he looked like he was waiting. Was he totally unafraid? 

Or did he trust that someone would come.

Brokenshire strode up before Jekyll, arms folded, looking down at the kneeling man with contempt. “Doctor Jekyll, Adam Frankenstein, and Jasper Kaylock, for disturbing the peace at the Compound, by the power vested in me, I hereby sentence the three of you to execution for the betterment of our survival. On my m-”

He said this as he raised his hand, meaning to make a downward swipe to signal the shot, but another bullet tore through the air and through his ring and middle finger, causing him to scream in pain and stagger back. All eyes turned in the direction of the shot to see Victoria on the roof, swearing loudly. She cupped her hands around her mouth: “YER LUCKY! I MEANT TO HIT YOUR HEAD!”

The gunshot echoed around them in the empty lot and the surrounding overgrown streets.

“Mrs. Frankenstein how dare you!” someone shouted, sounding genuinely insulted. Victoria stood and slung Adam’s rifle onto her shoulder, she’d stolen it back and wasn’t about to let go again. “I dare because you’ve got my son kneeling to be executed you motherfuckers!”

“Come down here and face us instead of staying up there like a coward!” 

“I WILL!” 

She stormed to the door and inside.

There was an awkward moment and the members of the Compound could hear distant shouting. Jasper and Jekyll shared a mildly worried look, then looked back at the building just in time to see the heavy doors get kicked open by the small, ornery woman. Behind her stood the survivors, armed and angry, a small army, with Frankenstein at the helm. She strode out and folded her arms, “Sergeant Brokenshire? We demand that you release our friends before this, altercation, escalates.”

Brokenshire’s people- Rashmi included- crowded behind him, weapons raised in defense. Their leader clutched at his bleeding hand, scowling and glaring at them. “You think you can just walk in here and take control then?”

“We never had a choice!” Archer snapped, stepping forward. He balled his hands into fists, “You dragged us back here and told us to stay because you were holding our friends and our stuff fucking hostage! You’ve no right to decide what we think or what we dare.”

“YEAH!”

“Go Off Archer!”

Behind the group, Lanyon, Rachel, Bird and Ito rejoined the party, all armed themselves. Lanyon gasped and pushed through them, running out to put himself between Jekyll and those who wanted him dead. Seeing an out, Jasper immediately jumped to his feet and ducked behind Victoria, shaking like a scared puppy. Jekyll stood behind his boyfriend and took his hand, “Lanyon please, we want to de-escalate the situation, fighting will only make it worse.”

“Excuse me for being wary that they’re going to shoot you,” Lanyon answered, moving in front again and pushing Jekyll back. Jekyll moved until he was with the group again, and passed Jasper his jacket, the poor boy needed a comfort item.

Adam, who’d been watching all this with his brows raised in mild surprise and a slight smile of interest, finally stood and took a few steps back. Victoria silently passed him his rifle, not breaking eye contact with the man who’s hand she shot to bits.

“So that’s it? You’re leaving by force, abandoning us?” Brokenshire asked, his voice deceptively level and calm.

“We were never here by choice, if you recall,” Jekyll said, squaring his shoulders. He made a motion and his people began to leave, when he spoke, his voice was almost kind. “We’re going to continue east, come find us if you make it out there. I wish you all the best of luck, Lord knows we’ll need it.”

Jekyll turned to follow Lanyon, who still held his hand, and they’d nearly made it inside when a gunshot rang out. Everyone gasped in horror and Jekyll froze, feeling the excruciating and burning pain begin to creep up into his chest. Shaking, he looked down, reaching up to touch the spot on his chest that was beginning to turn black with infected blood. Someone, probably Lanyon, screamed as Jekyll’s legs gave out from under him and he dropped to his knees, vision blurring and head spinning.

Gunfire erupted, someone grabbed him and pulled him inside, there were shouts of pain and panic, but Jekyll could barely hear it.

Lanyon looped his arm over his shoulder, dead or not he was taking his boyfriend with him. “COME ON LET’S MOVE!”

“Boss stop I think he’s not dead yet!” Luckett said, picking up the pace and taking his other arm. “There isn’t nearly enough blood for getting shot in the heart!”

“I don’t give a fuck if he’s healing keep moving!!” Victoria screeched from behind as a gunshot skid through the concrete wall nearby. Rachel was leading the charge and barreled through the metal door to the exterior, Pennebrygg looked up from his work on the engine and panicked. He scrambled to close the hood and run for the driver’s side, leaping into the seat and revving the engine frantically. He pounded on the steering wheel, “Come on come on you sonovabitch start!”

“I thought you said it was ready!?” Flowers said from the passenger seat, watching with worry as their friends made a break for it.

“It is ready but it won’t start!!”

The engine turned over once more and leaped to life with a growl, Pennebrygg let out a whoop of excitement and shifted it into drive.

Mosley and Helsby split off from the group to run to the gate. A single infected was gnawing on a metal bar nearby as they lifted the lock and pushed the large metal doors wide open. They looked back as the RV, now full of friends, sped towards them, still filling up with people.

This looking away gave the single ambitious infected a chance to leap with an ungodly yell, tackling Mosley to the ground. He screamed as well, using his rifle to keep its face back as he squeezed his eyes shut in terror. With a horrifying  _ squelch!  _ Helsby’s harpoon broke through the thing’s skull and tore it off of Mosley, casting the horrifying body aside. 

Helsby knelt and wiped the goop from Mosley’s face before it could leave more than a stain on his skin. He pulled his friend to his feet and they both jumped out of the way as the mobile home sped past, and the doors to the Compound behind burst open. They made a break for it, jumping and grabbing hold of the trailer.

They made it out, mostly.


	7. Unfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good people die, the infected do not.  
> How is it fair?

He felt pressure on the spot, and fading pain, and now he knew he was dying. 

But, he wasn’t dead yet, why?

Something in his mind stirred, and for the first time, he heard a voice.

“Get up Henry! You can’t die, not now! I need you!” 

A vision, surely a hallucination, came to him, a figure dripping blackness had him by the shoulders and was shaking him. He felt so tired, so weak, he could barely lift his head to see that this stranger, this creature, had those curse white eyes. But, they almost looked green. 

“Henry fucking Jekyll I haven’t spent two months in your subconscious for you to just die on us!” Edward Hyde screamed, shaking him. “Get up! Keep moving! You won’t die here but you have to hang on now!”

“N-now?” he said, finding it difficult to speak, like something was clogging his throat. He knew it was the infection, come to claim him in death. “Edward, I’m tired, can’t you do it?”

“And have you get smothered? No thanks! You’re the only reason I can exist the way I do!” He raised a hand and slapped Jekyll, the fading man yelled in pain and grimaced, feeling a bit of sensation spark back into his system. He blinked a bit, the image of Edward was getting fuzzy, everything was getting fuzzy. “Get the fuck up Henry, the Society needs you! Robert needs you!”

But, he heard another voice now, a real voice, from outside.

Lanyon’s voice.

“Henry? Henry! Wake up! Please wake up!” He blinked,  _ really  _ blinked, and felt things swimming back into focus over the sound of a rumbling engine. His head was held in Lanyon’s lap, warm hands in his hair, and throbbing pain in his chest.

“Holy shit he’s fucking alive,” someone said, looking down at him. Actually, everyone was looking down at him, he was on the floor. The voice, it sounded like Victoria. “Well pack it up everyone Jekyll can’t die.”

There were a few happy sounds, some groans of irritation, someone said something about it being unfair, and Jekyll just focused on breathing. It was like wearing a musty bandana, every breath was a struggle and made his chest hurt. But, Robert was there, and he looked so relieved to see him. “I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t, believe it,” Jekyll rasped, tasting foulness on his tongue. “Something, something’s wrong.” 

“It’s been a few hours, you’ve been unconscious since we left,” Rachel said, leaning into view. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit. Like I’m going to vomit.” It was uncomfortably hot in here, he wanted out, he wanted out  _ now.  _ The thought struck him like lightning and he sat up abruptly, “Stop the car! Now!!” Everything in him was alive, and a live wire, he was humming and something was very very wrong. 

The RV screeched to a halt and Jekyll flew for the door on shaky legs that threatened to buckle under him, shoving it open and running from the road towards the trees. Once clear, he doubled over and let loose the contents of his stomach. Although, what landed and stained the snow was not stomach bile, but black sludge that sizzled. Jekyll dropped to his knees and heaved again, coughing as the foul material burned the inside of his throat and nostrils worse than any time he’d been normally sick.

He looked up to see Lanyon running towards him in the late-afternoon light, he froze and stared. 

“Something’s wrong,” Jekyll wheezed, feeling his insides churn, and the blackness drip down his chin.

Lanyon took a step back, then called back to the RV: “I think we need to make camp!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Ito’s voice answered as she stepped out.

“I don’t know!” Lanyon looked to his friend, then hesitantly walked closer. He covered his mouth and nose, “God that stuff reeks enough when dry but fresh like that is repulsive!”

“You’re not helping,” Jekyll deadpanned. He tried to take a steadying breath only to find himself restrained, then looked down at his chest in surprise. He unzipped his coat to see bandages, stained black where he’d been shot and smelling just as foul. The cold air on his bare chest made him shiver and zip it back up. “Robert, I should be dead.”

“Yes, that’s twice now we’ve agreed on this,” Lanyon said, kneeling nearby but not too close. “But we can’t look a gift horse in the-”

“Robert I was shot. Through the heart. My heart should be in tatters. I feel it beating,” Jekyll said sternly, his eyes cold as he wiped uselessly at his mouth. “You know what that means, don’t you? I’m one of  _ them _ , I’m an Infected, Brokenshire should’ve killed me back there.”

“Don’t say that!”

“You know it’s true!”

From back at the RV, the escalating argument could be heard loud and clear over the silence of the world around them. Flowers flinched after a particularly sharp exclamation and shook her head, rubbing her injured shoulder. It was still sore, it had been dislocated for a long time after all, before they found her. She was the newest arrival, just before Jasper, but was more than grateful, especially after seeing the fight they put up for their own back at the Compound.

She sighed tiredly and leaned against the RV as everyone milled about, taking care of business and talking quietly. Mosley stood beside her, hand to his temple, exhaling sharply in pain. Flowers tilted her head, “You alright Mosley? You didn’t get hurt in the flight did you?”

“No no, I’m fine,” he answered, looking to her with the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile over his mask. She frowned, “You, sure? Your nose looks like it’s bleeding.”

“What? Oh shit you’re right.” He pulled the surgeon’s mask down and absentmindedly wiped at it with his sleeve, looking around. The color drained from Flower’s face, but she held her tongue, praying she was wrong.

It, definitely wasn’t black, no way, couldn’t be.

She stepped closer. “M-mosley? May, may I see your face for a moment?” 

He looked to her with a surprised frown, “I, yeah sure. Is, something wrong?” He looked visibly uncomfortable as she took his face and pulled it close, searching his eyes. It clicked and Flowers threw herself back with a scream, “NO!”

Mosley went white, “What? Flowers what is it? What’s wrong with my eyes??”

“Flowers?” Bird put a calming hand on her shoulder as he appeared behind her, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“M-Mosley’s infected,” she said, shaking and pointing a finger at him in terror, “You can see it in his eyes! They’re, they’re turning black!”

“They are not,” Mosley said, rolling his eyes. He paused to wipe his nose with the back of his hand, freezing when he saw the black material smeared across his skin. “Oh god.”

“Everyone relax, it’s getting dark, you’re seeing things!” Helsby declared, striding over and taking Mosley’s face. “See there’s nothing wrong with, him.”

“Helsby don’t fucking lie to me,” Mosley said, gripping his friend’s wrists, eyes wide with terror. With them so wide, it was easy to see the black creeping into the veins and the white spots blooming in the iris, undoubtedly fungal structures. “Helsby. What is it?”

“You’re, you’re infected,” he repeated numbly, his charismatic bravado vanishing. “Oh god Mosley it got in your eyes! I thought-”

“Must’ve missed it,” Mosley mumbled, smiling shakily. “Y’know, not like I wore a mask for the past twelve weeks to avoid that or anything. Not like that mask got fucking confiscated the one time I needed it, or anything.” 

“Oh Mosley…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“He might be immune, maybe there’s a chance-”

“No, the symptoms are identical to when Tweedy got it.”

“We can’t cut out both eyes.”

“It’s already in his head, didn’t you see the bleeding?”

“God, we probably don’t have long.”

“WOULD YOU ALL STOP?!?” Helsby snapped, glaring, still holding his friend. “You’re panicked nattering isn’t helping me and I  _ doubt _ it’s helping him.”

“I just want to talk to you a moment, Helsby,” Mosley said softly, his head hung and shoulders slumped. Helsby looked to him, worry written on his features, and he nodded. “Sure thing.”

The two wandered off and spoke just out of hearing range on the other side of the RV in the silent road. Some of the survivors peeked around to watch them, still exchanging worried mumbles as the two hugged tight. Helsby seemed to be crying, and seemed far more distraught than Mosley was over his own fate. They continued watching as the two walked off into the woods and vanished into the growing darkness, and they knew what was going to happen.

There was mutual agreement that it wasn’t worth it to wait for someone to turn to kill them, because then you were just waiting for them to turn into a walking plague rat. Jekyll had all told them what it felt like the first time he’d been bit, which was the closest any of them got to understanding what the change was like. By the time he finished describing the creeping sensation in the throat, the numbness that dissolved into fire, the paralysis that left one prone as the fungus crept into every muscle, the feeling like your eyes were being gouged out and the acid in your sinuses, no one wanted to consider how likely they were to experience that. When he continued to the bone snapping and all-consuming hunger that wiped away rational thought and turned you into a drooling, growling puppet, most of them proclaimed loudly they would rather be shot.

It was, just safer.

A few lanterns were lit, oil and battery alike, and Jekyll and Lanyon wandered back over, both looked upset.

“Well?” asked Victoria impatiently. “Is it consuming him too?”

“Too?” Jekyll repeated.

“Mosley got, infected, went straight to his head,” Luckett explained somberly, keeping an arm around Flowers, who still looked a bit shaken. “He and Helsby wandered off, I mean, I think I know what they’re doing but…”

“Let them be, they’ll be alright,” Jekyll said, sighing heavily. “God, that makes four of us in the last month. I should’ve been five. I don’t know why I’m still alive, we all know I shouldn’t be.”

“I say, the fact that you are is a good sign, actually,” Doddle offered, giving an optimistic smile. “I mean, what if, hypothetically, your strain of the fungus could be used to save lives?”

“In what world do we have the capacity to harness this bullshit as a medicine Doddle?” Archer snapped, folding his arms and looking away. Lavender nudged his shoulder and gave him a sad, disapproving frown, so he huffed and said: “Sorry. But seriously, you really believe that this stronghold place has the tech for that? At THIS point?”

“I’m hopeful for that, if nothing else,” Doddle said, nodding firmly. “Just as I am hopeful Mosley will be able to find rest.”

“I don’t trust it, to be honest,” Maijabi piped, looking to Jekyll with a slightly suspicious expression. “But it does seem as if the second good Doctor remains with us, and somewhat stable, that is a benefit to our survival regardless. We must take advantage of it while he’s alive.” Jekyll hung his head. “After all, who knows how long a fungus-patched heart can survive?”

Everyone jumped as a scream tore itself out of the woods, not one of terror or fear, but one of pain, of despair and sorrow and anger. Heads were hung, someone mumbled a quiet prayer for Mosley, and many sorrowful sighs joined the sounds of the night.

“We can only get lucky so many times,” Adam said soberly, folding his arms and looking down. “That means those of us who are lucky enough to get a second chance must keep going. It’s the only way we can pay back those we lost.” He glanced up, and Jekyll could feel his eyes, it only made the coldness and guilt in his chest that much heavier. 

Footsteps echoed off the street, too steady and measured to be an infected, it was Helsby. His face was covered with unashamed tears, and his harpoon, bloody and streaked with black, hung by his side on a limp arm. He faced the Society and, in a quavering voice asked: “I-I don’t suppose we, we could stop, long en-enough t-t-to clean up?”

“I think we can stay here for a few hours,” Lanyon said, moving over to put a hand on the distraught gentleman’s shoulder. “I think more than a few of us need a wash, anyway.” He glanced at Jekyll, then to Jasper, who sniffed his shirt and grimaced.

~

They found a stream within sight of the camp. It was shallow, icy, and the temperature of the night air was quickly dropping. Jasper scrubbed fast at his body and his clothes with the rough bar of pear-scented soap they’d given him to use, silently praying that he didn’t still smell when he finished. He dried almost frantically with the raggedy towel he’d been given and knelt in the mud to scrub on his shirt. Dead and flaky infected infection lifted up from the fabric and floated off down the stream, Jasper mumbled a thousand apologies to Mother Nature as he worked to get the stains free. 

It was no use, though, the fabric was stained so badly it appeared dyed. His white shirt, that had once been his Date-Shirt, was now a filthy ugly grey color, and it was too cold to wear now anyway. Jasper felt bad, Maijabi had given him a spare shirt and trousers to wear while he washed his clothes, and according to Tweedy the shirt had been Griffin’s. An Infected wearing the shirt of a man who commit suicide to avoid the plague, ironic and endlessly guilt-inducing. 

Jasper Kaylock sighed, staring into the freezing, rushing water as he rubbed feeling back into his hands by lamp light. He stood and wrung out his trousers, hanging them on a low tree branch to drip a bit before he turned to the stream again. His body was bundled up in his coat and borrowed clothes, but his hair felt like it was matting, he desperately needed to wash his hair.

He took a deep breath and plunged his head into the icey water, swishing it about before surfacing and screeching about the cold. Swearing and spitting, Jasper mixed the soap into his hair as fast as he could then dunked again. When he surfaced he shook his head like a dog, trying desperately to stop the dripping, and even when he took a towel to his head it felt frozen.

And, that was enough, the discomfort of all the cold.

Jasper started crying. Not sobbing, like Helsby had dissolved to, but soft crying, trying to fight the tears and blubbering when it became too much. Still, he dried his hair, then simply sat there in the cold and snow, sniffling. “Oh god, mom, dad, I miss you guys so much. Are you proud of me still? I’m a fucking werewolf and I can’t help anyone and I’m freezing and whining like a little bitch, are you still proud of me?”

“I’m sure they are.”

He jumped in fear and turned, bat raised in defense, to see Rachel with a flashlight, smiling sweetly. But her smile dropped when she saw him looking like a wet cat, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in clearly you were-”

“No, please stay,” he said, teeth chattering. “I-I’m gonna need some help getting back to the fire, a-anyway, I’m half frozen.” Rachel frowned and walked over, giving him her biggest and warmest hug, which only served to make him start crying again.

Jasper didn’t sob, just, buried his face and sniffled occasionally, Rachel was more than happy to be a shoulder to cry on for a few moments, it was one of the things she was good at after all. Eventually, they sat together on the bank as Jasper continued to attempt to dry his hair. He wasn’t ready to go back to the group yet.

“Doesn’t feel fair,” he said, folding his arms around his knees. “We Infected get to live, and good people like Mosley and Griffin have to die.”

“They, don’t  _ have  _ to die, we’re just not quick enough, not lucky enough,” Rachel countered, doing the same and scooting closer to him. “You guys though, you didn’t just, decide to live, and you can’t decide who lives and who dies. Stop feeling like your existence is an insult to the dead!”

“But it is!!” Jasper squeaked, throwing his hands up, fresh tears bubbling in his eyes. “I should be dead! Jekyll should be dead! Hell even Adam! At least he doesn’t have fucking monsters inside him whenever he gets freshly infected!” Jasper smiled in a panicked manner, “I turn into a fucking wolf Rachel! The Infection I got is a fucking furry! How humiliating is that?”

He stopped when Rachel pat his head and dropped his hat back on the wet mop. “Jasper, stop. People die, people live, it’s a luck of the fucking draw and in this world more than ever. Frankly, I think it’s kind of awesome you’re a wolf.” She smiled, “You tore through that horde and chased after Moreau, none of us could do that.”

He curled up tighter, looking back into the stream with a dejected sigh.

Rachel sighed too, unsure how to help.

There was a splash upstream and they looked towards it, spying the blue light that Adam had taken. He sat on the bank just out of earshot, and was talking with Victoria, actually smiling. They were both genuinely smiling, talking in a language that was probably Swedish about something or other, but it seemed to be lifting their spirits. Rachel gasped softly when she saw them hug, “Aw how sweet!”

“They don’t act like mother and son,” Jasper remarked softly. “It’s, easy to forget.”

“They really do love each other though,” Rachel said sweetly. She sighed, “I miss my mother and father, I used to visit them on weekends and help bake at their little shop. They, weren’t at home when the Outbreak started, they weren’t anywhere, but I think it’s pretty safe to assume they’re dead. I’m over it, mostly, I just miss them.”

Jasper sniffed again, hugging himself a little tighter as he fought to speak. “I, I was travelling, with my parents, l-like I said, camping. Mom got, she got, she got attacked when we got back to town, s-so dad and I ran. We, we weren’t okay, we really weren’t okay, I’m still not okay, we should’ve done something to help her. But, but while we were travelling south, trying to get to a city, we got attacked by these wolves, they didn’t look like wolves though because, fuck they were infected. I’m lucky I only got away with a bite, but that was two months ago and it still hasn’t healed!” He buried his face in his hands and choked back a sob, Rachel pat his back and pulled him into half of a hug, sighing.

“I know, you’re scared they wouldn’t be proud of you, but you’ve made it this far haven’t you?” she asked, watching the stream. She felt Jasper nod, “That’s, that’s impressive, all things considered. They’d be very proud and very happy you’re alright.”

He looked up to Rachel and offered a shaky smile, “I’m not alright though, Rachel, am I?”

“None of us are,” she answered in a very soft voice. 

Suddenly she stood, “Come on then, you’re freezing and the fire is hot, you stay out here much longer and you’re bound to get hypothermia, not to mention I think your pants froze to the tree.” She made a show of pulling them off and Jasper sniffled, smiling a tiny bit as he rose shakily to his feet.

Downstream, Henry looked up from his own frantic and frozen scrubbing to watch them leave. He shook his head and wrung out his shirt as best he could, hanging it on a tree branch then leaning against the tree. He was wearing Robert’s hoodie, it smelled like him and he felt positively rotten for wearing it, as if the smell infection would leech out of his skin and replaced the familiar and comforting scent of his boyfriend.

In a burst of anger, he ripped the hoodie off and threw it aside onto a pile of snow, shivering hard as the cold air snapped in around him like air into a vacuum. He clung to himself, feeling the bandaged rub against his arms as he sank to his knees, shivering violently in the cold.  _ I should just freeze out here, die like I should have, they’d understand.  _

The cold seemed to pierce him in the chest where the bullet struck, and suddenly Henry needed to see the wound for himself, He tore the bandages from his torso and threw them aside, leaning over the stream to use the crystal water as a mirror, it would show him the truth he already knew to be. Again the anger bubbled and he screamed in anger, dashing the reflection from the water and staggering back, scratching and clawing at the mark he now bore. 

From his chest, blooming like some sort of sick flower, was a black mark. It started where the bullet must’ve surely tore through his body and stretched up and out in every direction through what surely were his arteries, and it pulsed with his heartbeat, pumping that toxic blackness that filled him now through his system. There was no denying it now, he was one of them, he had been since that first bite, there was no fighting it, he deserved to die.

“Would you fucking stop that?”

Henry screeched in terror and snatched Robert’s hoodie from where it lay in the snow, covering his wound. “Who’s there?!?”

“Would you calm down?? You’re going to attract something nasty like this,” the voice, hauntingly familiar, continued. Then Henry realized, that was  _ his  _ voice, but, raspy and a bit phglemy. He frowned and looked around in confusion, “Where are you?”

Something tapped his shoulder and he squeaked in terror, turning and staggering back, ending up ankle-deep in the stream. The figure groaned and grabbed him, pulling him back onto dry mud, “You’re going to get frostbite if you keep splashing around in the snow and I like our feet!”

“Am I hallucinating?” Henry asked in a deadpan voice, staring wide-eyed at this figure. 

“Yes, you are.” They tapped his chest over his new black scarring, “Courtesy of the fact I may or may not have cemented myself in your mind by healing you.”

“You, you what?”

The figure rolled its shining black and white eyes, “Oh please I know you’re not this dumb. Henry, use your fucking eyes, who am I?”

Henry blinked and then his wide eyes got even wider. He took a step back, looking the figure up and down, noting how the black hair was really brown, just slicked with toxic sludge, how the hands were fine and delicate but tipped with dangerous claws, and how the shape of the face and the nose was the same as the one he’d seen in the mirror every day. “You’re, you’re me.”

“Wrong! I’m Edward Hyde, your cursed alter-ego remember?” Edward said, putting a sassy hand on his hip and twirling the other about. “Look the point is, by saving your life, you’re more infected until your heart heels properly, which is going to be a long fucking time. And, more infected, means I have more of a presence, meaning now I can tap tinto the part of your brain that would make hallucinations and talk to you face to face. Metaphorically.”

Henry blinked, only looking away to gather his bandages to wrap his chest again. “Go away.”

Edward pouted, “Hey, no, this is my body too and you’re trying to kill us by freezing to death.”

“It’s not your body,” Henry snapped, pulling on Robert’s hoodie grabbing his clothes from where they’d frozen while hanging to dry. “It’s my body and you’re a parasite.”

“On the contrary!” he countered, following Henry like a pestering puppy, “I am the byproduct of the infection  _ attempting _ to be a parasite. See, with your brain, it tried to manifest a consciousness to replace yours, which made me, and then it just couldn’t go any further. But the only reason I exist is because you exist.”

“So stop existing.” 

Edward put a hand to his chest, “Excuse me! I like living thank you!”

“Well you shouldn’t!” Henry rounded on the hallucination with his hands bunching into fists around frozen clothes, “You shouldn’t exist and I should be dead! Good people, Mosley, Sinnett, Griffin and Cantilupe, they should be alive but they’re not because of things like  _ you. _ A lot of the world should be alive but isn’t because you things like  _ you. _ ”

“You don’t think I know that?” Edward said, folding his arms. “I didn’t get much time to be all buddy buddy because I’m a toxic wasteland, but I liked Griffin! I thought Mosley was badass! You think I’m happy they’re dead?”

“I think you’re an abomination.”

Edward’s face softened a bit and he looked away, “I mean I know you do, you don’t have to keep saying it.”

“Sorry, did I hurt your feelings? I’m kind of dealing with the fact I’m a monster myself,” Henry said with a sharp, scathing tone.

“Well now I know where I got my asshole-attitude from,” Edward snapped, stepping closer. His hallucination form was shorting than Henry, though they were equal in real life. “I don’t want to die, and to do that, I have to keep you and your mind alive. I will manhandle our body and get it back to the fire if I have to and-”

“Don’t bother.” He brushed Edward off and turned to walk towards the fire, scooping up the lantern. “Robert needs me, and that’s the only incentive I need. Do me a favor, and shut the fuck up.”

Edward remained there, scowled, and jogged after before he was left behind, but he remained silent. He, didn’t like being yelled at, especially not by Henry, which was dumb because he was the one in control of their dynamic. He, Edward Hyde, could kill them both if he wanted by taking apart the little seals that were holding their heart together, but he didn’t want to. The idea of death, it scared him to the very core of his corrupted soul. He, also didn’t want to get yelled at anymore…

Jekyll moved to sit close to the fire, one of two that they’d made to warm up food and each other. He placed his clothes beside it, that they might thaw and dry off a bit. Lanyon came and sat beside him, sniffing in a dramatic manner. “Well you don’t smell like rotting alien fungus anymore.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, curling up a bit tighter and watching the flames. 

The Society was quiet, only the crackling flames and the sound of the forest around them.

It was unfair, all of it was.

What choice did they have but to continue?


	8. Tupik (Dead End)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Society reaches Russia, and comes home.

It was another week before they finally reached the strong hold.

Everyone was tired, food was running low, and it was beginning to seem like this stronghold they kept calling on the radio, didn’t even exist.

Until, suddenly it did. 

All at once there it was on the horizon, tall metal walls with spotlights shining on top, lighthouses in a concrete sea surrounded by barbed wire. It was at the edge of a city, one that was surely swarming with infected, and the size of a small town. Or at least, it looked to be that big from the mountain they stopped on.

Everyone gathered on the edge of the road, looking down at the city with mouths wide open, chattering in anxiety and excitement. Pennebrygg, who sat with the radio atop the RV, swallowed hard and tried the signal. “Russian Stronghold, this is the Society, we believe we have you in our sites. We’re on highway, uh, fuck I don’t know what it’s called, but you can see most of the city from the mountain. Could you turn one of your lights eastward and blink twice to confirm it’s you?”

A moment of silence and static.

“ _ Roger that Society, turning easternmost light in your direction.” _

“Look look the light’s turning!” Rachel called excitedly, pointing. 

Said light rotated a full ninety degrees to face the mountain before going dark. It flashed once, twice, then began to rotate back. The Society burst into cheers of delight, they’d actually made it. They’d ACTUALLY made it. Even Adam, whose resting-bitch-face was unmatched, smiled in such a way that even his eyes twinkled.

“It’s a town,” Jasper said, looking a bit awestruck, “Like an actual town!”

“And they’ve got electricity!” Rachel gasped, grabbing his shoulders and shaking excitedly. “Hot showers maybe! I see greenhouses!”

“I think I can see sheep!” 

“Are those solar panels??”

“They’ve got cars!”

“I think that’s a hospital!”

“What are we waiting for?” cried Luckett suddenly. “Let’s go!!”

They drove down the mountain and into the city with the same caution they’d always had, but now there was an excited and hopeful energy. Salvation, maybe civilization, was within their grasp. Someone started singing, someone else joined in, and even those who had only recently been released from the clutches of grief, began to be hopeful again.

Eventually, they came to a stop, everyone crowding in the cab to look out the wide window at the tall walls topped with towers that stood before. One of the spotlights swept down, and in the cloudy-late afternoon light, it dazzled the people within. A loud voice over a speaker spoke up: “ _ Society RV? Is that you?” _

“Does anyone have a megaphone?” asked Rachel quietly, blinking, a bit starstruck.

“No, but we can yell just fine enough,” Maijabi suggest, looking to the younger survivors almost expectantly. 

After a moment of talking, the door swung open and everyone climbed out, peering up at the bright lights atop the barbed wire walls. From here, they could hear the electricity humming through the heavy metal gates, no doubt someone would fry touching one of those things. There was a sense of tension as they filed out into the street in front of the stronghold, Jasper even raised his arms in self-defense.

“ _ Who did we speak to on the radio?” _ asked a voice from atop the wall.

Tweedy shoved Pennebrygg forward despite how spooked he looked, and he stepped up, waving. “Me! Walter Pennebrygg, called on frequency sixty-two an hour ago?”

There was a general gasp as the loud humming dropped abruptly, becoming quieter. A smaller set of doors swung open from the center and a few people armed with guns and dressed in armor strode out. 

With them was a thin person with messy black hair and, goggles? He strode out to meet them and folded his hands behind his back, the survivors of the Society shared various looks of unease, observing his labcoat and thick black gloves. Then, he smiled. “Herbert Wells, a pleasure to meet all of you. If you don’t mind me asking, which of you are your infects?”

Jekyll stepped forward, “I am, sir, the one originally mentioned. The others are Jasper Kaylock and Adam Frankenstein here. Myself and Jasper only pose moderate threats when exposed to-”

“Are you actively contagious?” Wells interrupted, frowning a bit. Jekyll swallowed and nodded, “Adam isn’t, Jasper and I are only contagious with fluid to fluid contact, sir.”

“And you are? You never told me your name.”

“Oh, Doctor Henry Jekyll sir.” 

Wells smiled and nodded, “Always good to have more doctors around.” He made a motion and the soldiers, who actually looked very pleasant, came forward with smiles to greet the newcomers. Jekyll found himself able to breathe a little easier, even as Wells reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of surgeon’s masks. “For you and Kaylock, we take precautions here. There’s, quite a lot of people you understand.”

“How many?” Lanyon asked, stepping forward. Wells tilted his head, looking a bit confused. “Oh uh, Doctor Robert Lanyon, sir.”

“I see, well, there’s about three hundred people in total and-”

“THREE HUNDRED?! Are you mad man? That’s a disaster waiting to happen!” Victoria screeched, butting in. Jekyll rolled his eyes and donned his mask, “This is Victoria Frankenstein, sir, resident pessimist.”

“Realist, thank you,” she corrected indignantly.

“Well, she is correct,” Wells said with a nod. “There is indeed quite a lot of potential for betrayal, infection, war, which is why we foster a generous and neighborly attitude among all the survivors. It’s hard work keeping everyone happy, but damn if we don’t try. Unity is the one thing we’ve got at this point.”

“Great, he’s a preacher!” Victoria groaned, turning to walk off while both Lanyon and Jekyll watched her with disapproval.

But to their surprise, Wells actually laughed. “Quite a fun one you’ve got there boys! Well, regardless of pessimistic old ladies, we’ve got a place for your whole crew set up. It’s not the nicest, but you’ll be able to fix it up as you please.”

“I’m sure we’ll all appreciate it, it’s been a long time since we’ve had somewhere like this to stay,” Lanyon said with a smile. “After all, the Compound that Brokenshire was running wasn’t so much a town as a police state, you know?”

“Yes I do, I spoke with him and he had no interest in getting involved with infects.” As Wells said this, he cast a glance at Jekyll passing Jasper the second surgeon’s mask. He saw Rachel grab it and run for the RV, returning with a pen in hand. She scribbled something on the mask and gave it to Jasper, who laughed and put it on, now bearing an adorable puppy mouth on the grey fabric.

And Wells smiled sweetly, then looked to Lanyon again. “Welcome to Tupik, Doctor Lanyon.”

~

The man’s name was Dr. Wells, a physicist and astronomer by trade, and he lead them through the town as casual as anything. They had to leave the RV parked near the gate, but Wells promised it would not be touched. Most everyone brought their things anyway, as well as anything they could carry from the trailer, after the Compound they didn’t dare risk getting robbed again.

But, this didn’t seem like that kind of place.

Sure it was cold and gloomy, but that was only because of the weather. Torn blankets and curtains were hung up all over the place as colorful banners, patching parts of walls that had yet to be fixed, proclaiming messages of hope and the names of families within. There were actual children, only a few, but real live children playing a game of ball in the street, shouting in at least three different languages but all smiles while a man in a heavy jacket watched over, he must’ve been a teacher.

“This place, it seems too good to be true,” Jasper said as they walked their tour.

“I’m all for looking a gift horse in the mouth but, I’m tired of running around, I’m willing to give this place a try,” Helsby said, falling into step beside Jasper. He nudged Jasper with his elbow, “Hey, you and Mosley would’ve matched with your silly masks. I think he’d have liked his more if you wore one too.”

“His gas mask was so much cooler,” the boy countered with a sad smile, looking ahead and reaching up to touch the paper over his mouth. He smiled a bit wider, remembering Rachel’s dumb doodle, and looked back to Helsby. “We could’ve drawn him a little star-nosed mole face! Think he’d have liked it?”

Helsby smiled a bit, “I think he’d have been annoyed, at first, but grown to like it. He was, that kind of person.”

Jasper tilted his head, “You saved him, y’know? Even if his ghost is haunting you for it, I mean, like, you saved him a painful death or even more painful im, immu, im-mu-ni-zay-shun.”

“It hurts?” Both looked up to see Archer having joined them, “I just thought, the bite happened and, y’know, nothing happened.”

Shaking his head, Jasper rolled up his sleeve to show of his own bite. “I mean, I know it was from a wolf, but I’m pretty sure the idea is the same. It feels like your entire body is trying to pull itself apart and then it just, doesn’t. And here you are, confused.”

“Sounds like it sucks,” Archer said solemnly, looking ahead. “Maybe, we won’t have to worry about that as much.”

They passed a few young girls talking around a lamp post, one of them wore a bandana over her face, splattered with black stains. She had a scar on her neck and black veins that traced down from her eyes, but they could see she was smiling. A hopeful smile tugged Jasper’s mouth, “Yeah, maybe.”

Suddenly, he found himself stopped, only because he literally bumped into Lavender, his nose crashing painfully into her rifle. She gasped and turned, “Oh! Sorry Jasper!”

He offered her a thumbs up while rubbing his nose.

They had stopped in front of what looked like a very large house, a single facade with at least eight windows, one of which was shattered. Wells fished in a pocket and pulled out a keyring, which he dropped into Lanyon’s hands. “Ladies, Gentlemen, and those between, I give you, the Society! Or, well, where we hoped you all would stay for now. It’s the largest space we have properly cleaned so far, but once we get some other apartments in working order, we’ll help you all spread out.”

“Frankly I think it’ll do us just fine,” Bird announced, putting his hands on his hips and nodding proudly. There were a few chorused agreements and Wells smirked. “Fantastic! But, it ought to have a name, if you were planning on keeping the title. It’s got to be the Society of, something.”

“Second Chances.” Everyone looked to Jekyll, whose head was tilted slightly with a pout behind his mask. He walked over to the broken window and dusted some of the glass away, “The Society of Second Chances. I mean, it’s a miracle we all made it here, some of us more than others, and some of us not at all, we ought to remember that, right?”

A moment of silence, then someone yelled: “Absolutely!”

And the small Society exploded with chatter, suddenly everyone was excited about getting to make a home, about having somewhere to sleep every night, about personalizing and building up. Dr. Wells smiled and pat Lanyon, shaking his head a bit, “Excitable bunch you’ve got, best of luck friend.”

“Thank you,” he answered, smiling and looking towards Jekyll, who must’ve been beaming behind his mask as he rejoined the group.

Though, the smile dropped, and he turned to Adam and Victoria, who were watching everything from a small distance away from the group, talking in low voices. “Adam? Victoria? I, shouldn’t assume but, would you want to stay here till they can find better lodgings? I’m sure there’s, somewhere else too, if you’re really set on leaving.”

The two Frankensteins shared a look and before Victoria could speak, Adam said: “I think that you’ve all been very kind, and staying here wouldn’t be so bad, but I imagine we’ll find our own space soon enough.”

Jekyll nodded cordially, folding his hands behind his back, “Very well! Let’s see what this new place has to offer hm?”

The door unlocked with a bit of effort, and the Society moved in.

To be honest, the place was a dump from being forgotten and clearly ransacked at one point. A distinctly musty and moldy smell filled the air, but nothing a few open windows couldn’t help with. A forgotten broom was home to a spiderweb in one corner, leaves and dust covered the floor, the stairs had begun to creak, and no one dared to sleep in the beds upstairs that looked like they’d seen better days.

But, the kitchen cabinets were empty and tidy, the fridge was cleared and clean, though silent. The oven didn’t turn on, neither did the stove, but that was nothing a little elbow grease couldn’t change into something useful. Candles and matches had been left on the table along with actual dishware, soap, a bucket with holes in the bottom meant to be used as a shower, and a jar of honey with a note that said:  _ From our resident beekeeper, welcome to Tupik. _

Of course, Tupik is the english way to write it and pronounce it. The name was actually тупик, and according to a local, it meant Dead End. That hadn’t been the name originally, but now that the world was dead and this was either going to be the end of the road or the start of a new one, it changed. 

A lot of things changed.

It was late afternoon when the Society had moved everything, including the RV, to their house on the street, but they didn’t stop there. Lanterns and candles glowed to life, the broom and its spider hotel were shaken free of cobwebs, hands protected by gloves began to scrape away at the presence of nature in the living room. After being beaten within an inch of its life, the rug that had occupied the floor became a cover for the shattered window and a makeshift curtain.

Rachel swept while singing a little song as the couch cushions received the same treatment outside. At one point she paused, hearing someone yelling as they worked, and went to the window to see Archer with the tennis racket they’d found beating the living daylights out of a cushion. He dropped to his knees and began to cry, Pennebrygg pat his shoulder to console him, but didn’t stop him. 

Well, that was one way to work through grief. 

With the floor swept as clean as possible, the blankets and sleeping bags and pillows were thrown about in a big pile with jackets and spare clothes. Fabrics from around the house were bound in trash bags and joined the pile as pretty shit pillows, but god if they weren’t more comfortable than the wood floor. Maijabi, the eldest among them, was given the couch, despite how he insisted he would be fine on the floor. A bookshelf was shoved in front of the back door that lead to the tiniest and most frozen backyard possible, but even still, no one felt safe with it there.

The fireplace blossomed to life, making the already surreal scene of being happily in a house, even more surreal. For a long time, everyone sat there, watching the fire flicker away in its brick and mortar nook instead of a ring of stones on the road. Jekyll and Jasper cautiously pulled off their masks and set them aside, and shared a look. 

It, didn’t feel right.

“We should sleep in shifts,” Ito suggested, sensing the mutual unease. “As we, adjust, we won’t have to but… For now.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Can’t sleep anyway, it’s too quiet.”

“And all those people outside…”

“God what if something happens?”

“We’ll be trapped!” 

“The RV is right outside, we’ll have a chance.”

“We’re all armed anyway, we can fight.”

“If we wake up on time.”

“We will. Because someone will be awake.”

“Fair point.”

“I’ll go first, if you don’t mind.”

“Thank’s Robert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't feel like an end does it? Well it wasn't supposed to be.  
> I just, can't, write anymore. It's like the well has run dry for this story, which sucks because it's fun.  
> Alternatively, if any of you guys want to finish it, you're totally welcome to.   
> Here's what was going to happen:  
> -The Society settles in, yay recovery chapter with mourning the dead properly and exploring Tupik, Victoria starts acting like less of a grump finally  
> -Radio call, uh-oh Moreau wants them to turn over all infected and cure research because he thinks if he infects the world he can rule it  
> -prepare for battle!!!  
> -Battle, most survive but some lose limbs, Lanyon gets bit, Jekyll despairs, Hyde saves Lanyon's life by getting him inside  
> -Experimental cure! Will most probably kill him, but if it doesn't, he'll be immune! Huzzah?  
> -THE CURE WORKS! Everyone rejoices and Jekyll gets to kiss his bf for the first time in months


End file.
